


bloom

by subsequence



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bottom Im Jaebum | JB, Eventual Happy Ending, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jaebum, Rutting, Slow Burn, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 106,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subsequence/pseuds/subsequence
Summary: Jaebum may have learned to accept his role as future king, but accepting this new role — the thought makes him sick to his stomach.If he could have, Jaebum would have chosen any other way to present as an omega.(Or: Omegaverse Arranged Marriage AU featuring Princes!JJP and a cast of loudmouth extras.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a heads up, the first scene includes a teeny bit of het sex, but it's not super explicit and it's over very quickly. once we get to the actual sex scenes, the rating will be bumped up /finger guns/

If he could have, Jaebum would have chosen any other way to present as an omega.

He’d had his eye on Jieun for weeks, dropping hints that were about as subtle as a brick to the face, and she’d laughed at him more than once; but it paid off beautifully. If he thought Jieun was gorgeous walking around the castle, it was nothing compared to how she looked spread out beneath him, a pretty pink flush staining her cheeks the same color as her lips. He couldn’t keep quiet once he was inside her, groaning and cursing and whispering to her how good she felt, how tight, how _wet_ —

“That’s — ” she starts and then pauses, sounding confused. “Jaebum?”

“Yeah?” he pants, distracted.

“Something is...off.”

Jaebum’s brow furrows. “Did I — did I put it in the wrong — ”

“No, just — ” She purses her lips. “Pull out for a second.”

He wrinkles his nose but does as he’s told, impatient to deal with whatever’s _off_ according to Jieun so they can hopefully get back to business. “All right, I’m out. What’s the — ”

His voice dies in his throat as the haze from the pleasure of being inside her dissipates and he becomes more aware of the rest of his body. Specifically, he becomes aware that the wetness he’d felt hadn’t been from her. If it had been, it wouldn’t be dripping down the insides of his thighs, trailing down from his —

“Oh, fuck.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Your life sucks,” Hongbin observes.

Jaebum had hidden himself away in the small orchard in the corner of the gardens, clambering up the branches of one of the older trees until he could see and smell nothing but sharp citrus.

Of course, Hongbin was the one to find him. At least their decade and a half of running around the castle together had given Jaebum something more than a particularly prickly squre for company.

“Thanks, Hongbin,” Jaebum says, plucking an orange off the branch next to him and chucking it down at Hongbin’s head. “I hadn’t fucking realized.”

“Anytime, Your Highness,” Hongbin replies, catching the orange and starting to peel it. Asshole. “You know me, always here to give you an objective opinion on the latest royal bullshit.”

“That’s a nice way to call yourself a gossipmonger,” Jaebum snipes. A thought crosses his mind and he swallows hard, biting his lip before he asks as nonchalantly as he can, “So...what’s the status of gossip in the castle, then, Keeper of the Castle Bullshit?”

“Oh, you know.” Hongbin says through a mouthful of orange, the juice dribbling down his chin. How he still manages to look effortlessly handsome despite eating like a toddler will never cease to amaze Jaebum. “Highly confidential, need-to-know basis, very hush-hush, all that shit.”

“So?”

“So, obviously, the whole castle knows.”

Jaebum groans and lets his head fall back against the trunk of the tree, staring morosely at the ground. He’s not far enough up to do any serious damage from jumping; he’ll just have to deal with the consequences of the gossip, then.

“Hey, Jaebum?” Hongbin asks, sounding surprisingly tentative. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“Did you really drip so much out of your ass it got on her? Because that’s — ”

The next orange Jaebum throws at Hongbin’s head flies too fast for him to catch it.

Hongbin seems to find getting pelted with fruit a reasonable price to pay for humiliating Jaebum, if the way he almost falls out of the tree howling with laughter is any indication.

“It’s the worst day of my fucking life and you’re still treating me like this,” Jaebum complains. “Why am I even friends with you?”

“Hate to break it to you, Prince,” Hongbin says, laughter still lingering around the edges of his voice, “but I’m always gonna treat you like this. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck you,” Jaebum says, but he can’t deny there’s a part of him that’s grateful for Hongbin’s words. He isn’t entirely sure of all the repercussions he's going to face for this. He has no idea how his parents will look at him, how his future subjects will look at him, but the reassurance that Hongbin, at least, won’t be any different gives him hope that things might not change as much as he’d feared.

Maybe, Jaebum thinks, this won’t be as terrible as he’d thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turns out worse than Jaebum had thought.

He'd expected the other nobles — his parents, his little brother, the various names and faces that have surrounded him since before he can remember — to look down on him with his newly-found status. He'd expected sneers, maybe slurs.

He hadn't expected to suddenly be treated like glass.

It's not that Jaebum wants to be seen as an asshole, but he's always liked to think he cuts a figure that has to be taken seriously — sharp features, broad shoulders, decent height. He's never had to deal with looks of pity or simpering smiles like he's some kind of toddler who doesn't understand the world around him. Like he's somehow different from the person he was days ago.

Then again, maybe he is different.

Surely, something had to change to take Jaebum from crown prince to royal fuck-up, a secret to be taken care of with discretion. His role has been thrust upon him all his life, and he's borne it as best he could until the weight of it on his shoulders felt like a part of his being. There had been times he'd chafed at the idea of becoming king, but he'd made his peace with it, built his whole life around the fact that his future was set.

And here he is, having that ripped out of his hands to be replaced with something he never expected or wanted. He may have learned to accept his role as future king, but accepting this new role — the thought makes him sick to his stomach.

Of course, once the role is taken from him, it has to go to someone else, and that's just another punch to the gut for Jaebum. It isn't that he's jealous. It's that he can't stand to see the way his baby brother's eyes widen and his hands clench into fists to try to hide their trembling; but Jaebum's always been a doting older brother, and he knows Youngjae's tics better than he knows his own. He can recognize when the boy is terrified.

In the middle of the night, he slips into Jaebum's room.

"Hyung?" Youngjae's voice is quieter in the dark than it ever is during the day. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Yeah," Jaebum grunts, yanking back the covers haphazardly. "C'mere, kid."

Youngjae scurries under the covers, curling up on the mattress beside Jaebum. It reminds him of the way Youngjae always used to come to him for any number of reasons when they were growing up — thunderstorms, monsters under the bed, Hongbin teasing him with stories of demons and witches. It's always been Jaebum that Youngjae runs to. The fact that this, at least, hasn't changed is a balm to the stinging resentment Jaebum feels toward the universe.

Jaebum waits for Youngjae to break the silence, listening to their soft breathing in the otherwise quiet room. He can hear Youngjae's breath catch a few times, like he's about to start a sentence and then thinks better of it. It makes anxiety twist in Jaebum's stomach. Youngjae has never had a problem talking to him. Is even the security of his relationship with his brother going to be taken from him?

"Hyung," Youngjae finally says. "What's going to happen?"

Jaebum debates playing dumb and asking what Youngjae means, but he doesn't want to disrespect him like that. Not when he's the one who reached out to Jaebum. "You know what's going to happen, Youngjae."

"But you — your crown — "

Jaebum chuckles, but the sound goes sharp and wrong in his throat. "It's not mine anymore, is it?"

He can barely make out the way Youngjae's face falls in the dark — just the harsh line of his frown, the downturn of his eyes. "But it's always been yours."

"Things change," Jaebum says bluntly.

"But you're still... _you,_ " Youngjae says plaintively. "You're still the only person in this kingdom I could see actually taking over Father's place as king."

"Funny, then," Jaebum says, "how I'm the only one of royal blood who _can't,_ isn't it?" He can feel an ugly parody of a smile twisting his features. He hopes it's dark enough that Youngjae can't see it.

"But if not you, then...." Youngjae trails off. They both know who.

"I'm sorry, Youngjae," Jaebum whispers, and the guilt claws its way up his throat until he realizes it's going to come out in tears and he swallows hard against it, feeling it like glass shards rending him from the inside out. Not in front of Youngjae, he tells himself. The boy has enough to deal with as it is.

"It's not your fault, hyung," Youngjae says. "It's not like you asked for this."

Jaebum barks out a mirthless laugh. "You can say that again."

"It's not fair," Youngjae says, his voice bordering on a whine.

He's still so young, Jaebum thinks. Not just in age, but in maturity. Jaebum's always been there to shield Youngjae from harsh realities and life's unfairness, but now — well, alphas are the ones known for their protectiveness, aren't they? Jaebum has been rendered useless in the blink of an eye. No matter how much he feels the same, no matter how much he rages and fights and screams at the sky, his voice is swallowed up without ever being heard.

Well, he thinks, they might hear it. They're just not listening.

"Just because I'm a beta and you're an omega doesn't mean you can't be king," Youngjae insists, as if he can speak it into existence. Jaebum can tell him firsthand that's impossible. "I mean, what's even the reasoning? It doesn't make sense — "

"Heats make omegas illogical," Jaebum says dully, reciting what he's been told by the advisors that hang around the royal family. Vultures, the lot of them, if you ask him.

"Alphas have ruts," Youngjae says stubbornly. "And betas — betas — "

"Are the only ones fit to rule?" Jaebum asks, feeling the ghost of a genuine smile tug at the corners of his mouth for the first time in days. "Well, then, you could've just _told_ me you wanted my crown, no need to take down the whole system — "

"You know that's not what I'm saying, hyung!" Youngjae says exasperatedly, kicking Jaebum's shins with his icy toes.

"I know, kid, I know." Jaebum sighs. "But omega heats are — what, every month or so? And ruts are only once a year."

"It still isn't fair," Youngjae says with a pout.

"You can't just say it's unfair because it's inconvenient to you personally," Jaebum points out.

"It's not just that, though," Youngjae says. "It's not fair to you either. When I'm king, I'll change it, I promise, and then — "

"You know that's not how ruling should work," Jaebum chides. "You can't just make laws based on your feelings and whims."

"Well, if the laws are stupid, then they should be changed," Youngjae says, and Jaebum can tell he's not going to change his mind tonight. He'll have to work with him on that.

He feels a pang in his chest when he realizes just how much Youngjae has to learn. All the years Jaebum had spent in lessons, at his father's side, are now good for one thing only — teaching Youngjae.

This, he supposes, isn't the worst lot he could've drawn as a male omega. He can't even have children, he obviously can't rule, he can't really do _anything_ except this. It's the only thing he's really equipped for. Isn't that a cheerful thought?

Jaebum punches his pillow in the guise of pounding it into a more comfortable shape, even though they both know it's just because he wants to hit something. "Go to sleep," he says gruffly. "You know how grumpy you get in the mornings when you don't sleep enough."

Youngjae whines a little bit more, but eventually his own body stops him, his eyes drooping and the line of his body relaxing into the mattress.

Jaebum watches him. He doesn't envy Youngjae the crown, exactly. If he could've been a second son without the pressure ever placed on his shoulders, he thinks he would've been happy like that. Like Youngjae had been before this whole fiasco.

He does envy Youngjae the fact that he can sleep at night. He envies the fact that Youngjae, for all his sweetness, still holds the weight of the law behind his words. He envies that Youngjae can wake up in the morning and know that the path he walks, no matter how intimidating, is still his own.

Jaebum envies Youngjae his future only for the fact that he doesn't have one anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, there is something worse than feeling useless, and that’s feeling like someone’s pity project.

“I beg your pardon,” Jaebum says through gritted teeth with all the politesse he can muster. “Please repeat that.”

“Our allies to the north have agreed to take you,” his father says, impatience tinging his voice. No one can deny that Jaebum comes by his angry streak honestly. “King Park of Cerisale has a son, a nice alpha who’s agreed to marry you even if you — even if the circumstances aren’t what we’d expected.” Even if you can’t bear heirs, is what goes unsaid but clearly heard.

Jaebum swallows down the frustration rising in his chest and turns to look at his mother. She’s looking down at her cup, mechanically stirring her tea like she has been for the past ten minutes. “This is...fast,” he says. It’s fucking bullshit, he doesn’t say.

“It’s very fortuitous for us,” his father says. “You know that potential mates usually like their omegas before they get too old, so it’s best to do it as quickly as possible.”

“Of course,” Jaebum says, his voice brittle. He knows it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with how alphas prefer their omegas (like they’re saying how they’ll take their tea, and the thought makes Jaebum clench his teeth so hard his jaw aches). It has to do with how quickly his parents want him gone, and nothing more. Out of sight, out of mind, so everyone can forget about Jaebum and stop asking troublesome questions. “Is there a catch?”

His father laughs, booming and hollow at the same time. “Why would there be — ”

“You’ll have to go to Cerisale,” his mother interrupts, her voice high and thin with anxiety. It’s the first time she’s spoken during this conversation. When their eyes finally meet, all Jaebum can think is how much Youngjae takes after her. “The wedding will be there, and you’ll stay in their palace.”

Jaebum nods stiffly. He’d figured as much, but it still stings to know that his parents will happily ship him off so far north that he may as well never see the sun again. “And the son? Is he defective or what?”

“ _Jaebum,_ ” his father says, tone threatening, but when his mother shakes her head, he can feel the honesty in the gesture.

“He’s a good boy, from what I’ve heard,” she says quietly. “He likes his books better than weapons, and he has a gentle disposition.”

“Yes, yes,” his father agrees immediately. “And a pretty face, too, if I’m not mistaken. They thought he was going to present as an omega. You’re lucky, Jaebum.”

Jaebum holds back from laughing in his father’s face, but only just. Lucky isn’t the word he’d pick. Then again, he thinks, it’s not like what he’d pick really matters.

His mother seems to notice his simmering anger and throws out, “And you’ll have new brothers-in-law to keep you company. Three, isn’t it?”

“And all alphas,” his father adds, not seeming to realize the weight of his words. Jaebum can see his mother’s face fall and her eyes drop to stare into her teacup again.

“How fortuitous for their family,” Jaebum says, borrowing his father’s word from earlier and forcing it through teeth bared in what can hardly be called a smile. “Sounds like they’re the lucky ones.”

“You and them together, maybe you’ll make some luck happen for both of our kingdoms,” his father says with a grin. “After all your training, you’d be excellent at diplomacy. Well, a certain kind of it. You know how the omegas work behind the scenes in the courts and all that. You’re a sharp boy, Jaebum. You could really make a difference.”

Not as much as a king could, Jaebum thinks, but he manages to limit himself to nodding deferentially to his father. “Yes, sir.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, not trusting himself to look back up without snapping and saying something he shouldn’t. “If the king has finished with me, I’d like to be excused.”

His father waves his hand easily, leaning back in his chair. Jaebum doesn’t linger long enough to hear anything more.

He goes to the orchard, like always.

He finds the biggest tree with the sturdiest branches and hauls himself up without a single thought to how it tears at the fabric of his trousers and the skin of his hands. He nestles himself among the leaves and the fruits.

Here, the smell of citrus is strong, but Jaebum swears that he can still smell himself — the cloying, sweet scent of unbonded omega, like a siren’s call to anyone who isn’t like him. Ever since that first day, he swears it’s been growing stronger and stronger, a cloud that follows him wherever he goes. It stifles him and steals the breath out of his lungs.

His hands shoot out and grab an orange, clawing at the skin imprecisely, sending rivulets of juice running down his wrists and arms, setting into his clothing in sticky patches. He holds the pulverized fruit to his face, inhaling the familiar scent deeply. Sharp, tangy, just a touch too sweet because of the season coming to an end. Jaebum could cry from relief at how the orange’s scent cuts through his own, letting him breathe for the first time in weeks.

Before Jaebum even realizes what’s happening, he’s crying. It’s something he hasn’t experienced before, not like this. Angry sobs that feel like they’re being ripped from his chest tear through the orchard, mingling with the peaceful sounds of birds chirping and the breeze rustling the leaves. Hot tears drip down his chin and onto his hands to mix with the fruit juice. He feels like a mess, a sloppy, uncontrollable, _disgusting_ mess, sitting there in the royal orchard with a broken fruit in his hands and crying like it’s his heart he’s holding instead.

He’s never felt so alone in his life. Growing up, even if Youngjae was too small to listen, even if Jaebum wanted to shield him from the world, he could always count on Hongbin to be there. Even if it was with pointed barbs and a laugh in Jaebum’s face, he would be there.

Now, Jaebum isn’t allowed to even be alone with Hongbin. The thought is laughable, that all of a sudden this late puberty hits and Jaebum is going to feel something for his childhood friend, of all people; but an unbonded omega with an unbonded alpha is unheard of.

As if they would want each other, Jaebum thinks bitterly. As if he couldn’t defend himself if he _didn’t_ want it. He was trained in combat like all princes are, and he’d taken it far more seriously than Youngjae. He’s beaten Hongbin in sparring plenty of times. Just because of some slick between his legs and a scent on his neck, the years of work he’s put in fall away and leave…

What do they leave?

Jaebum lets the orange fall out of his hand, landing with an anticlimactic _thump_ against the earth. He follows it down; a guard will be out looking for him soon. God forbid an omega be alone for too long.

He drags himself back up to the castle and asks one of the servants to bring him hot water for a bath. Once it’s ready, he submerges himself in the tub, even though the water’s hardly cooled at all and it makes his skin feel raw and pained. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs until every trace of fruit juice is gone, and then he scrubs some more, but he swears he can still smell what’s really bothering him — the thickly saccharine omega stench underneath it all, coming from somewhere he can’t wash away.

It doesn’t mean he can’t try.

By the time he gives up, he’s rubbed raw the scabs he has from all the climbing, and blood trickles lazily from cuts on his knuckles and knees. He still doesn’t feel clean enough, but there’s a hopelessness to the movements of his hands now — the desperate frenzy of strokes with the washcloth has died down to tired, muted drags against his burning skin.

The water is cold, he realizes. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Apparently, it doesn’t matter. That’s a thought that’s been running through Jaebum’s mind more and more lately.

He forces himself out of the bath and dries and clothes himself carelessly, not paying attention to the wet patches he’s left on himself. By the time he falls into his bed, the exhaustion of the day hits him. He might not be allowed to do many physical things anymore, but the emotional toll that everything has taken on him lately is making him fray around the edges. He wonders if he would’ve felt the same way if he weren’t an omega or if he’s more susceptible to emotions now.

He groans and buries his face in his pillow. There’s no use wondering, he reminds himself. It can’t be undone.

So he lets the weariness overtake him, lets sleep pull him away from his bed where he lies curled up, stifled by his own scent.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum manages to see Hongbin alone one more time before he leaves for Cerisale.

He hasn’t seen him in weeks. Jaebum scans him up and down, wondering if Hongbin has changed like everything else in his life has seemed to, but he seems the same. Cherubic curls falling around his dimpled face, a knifelike smile carved into his features the only hint that he isn’t nearly as angelic as he appears. The only difference is how aware Jaebum is of Hongbin’s scent; unbonded alpha, clean and sharp. It suits Hongbin, if Jaebum is honest with himself.

He’s handsome, Jaebum acknowledges. He wonders if, given time and space, he really would’ve fallen for Hongbin like everyone seems to think.

Then, of course, Hongbin opens his mouth and Jaebum remembers how stupid that line of thought is.

“You know, I bet your flexibility from combat training will come in handy,” Hongbin says cheerfully. “I mean, as long as he gags you or something so he doesn’t have to listen to you, but that seems like a pretty good tradeoff, don’t you think?”

It’s like Hongbin’s words cut through the haze of anxiety that’s been plaguing Jaebum since this whole business started. They pull a laugh out of him, genuine and probably too loud for the alcove they’re hiding in, but it feels full and good in a way that Jaebum has ached to feel for weeks. He grabs Hongbin around the neck, yanking him into a chokehold.

“Maybe this combat training will come in handy instead,” Jaebum grunts as Hongbin wheezes and curses at him, twisting against his grip.

“If you — do that,” Hongbin manages, “you’re going to get — hanged for attempted — assassination — Jesus, let _go_ — ”

“My dearest husband-to-be is the fourth son,” Jaebum says, voice straining with the effort of keeping Hongbin held in place. “I doubt they’ll care if he gets a little banged up if they were willing to marry him off to a barren omega, anyway.”

“Yeah, well stop — using _me_ as a practice round,” Hongbin chokes out. “You’re not even — going to get to Cerisale — if you’re already a murderer.”

“They’ll never find the body,” Jaebum hisses, but he lets go of Hongbin anyway, who stumbles away while choking and laughing.

It feels good, better than Jaebum remembered even. He hasn’t had casual physical contact in so long, even if it’s just roughhousing with his absolute asswipe of a best friend.

“Maybe it’s good that you’re going so far away,” Hongbin grumbles, his voice cracking slightly. “I won’t have to worry about any more attempts on my _life —_ ”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jaebum scoffs. “We’ve gone harder than that in training.”

“But now you have your omega wiles to seduce my innocent alpha — _ow!_ ” Hongbin rubs at where Jaebum just punched him in the arm and scowls at him. “It’s true!”

“I don’t have any damn _wiles,_ ” Jaebum insists. “I’ve never had wiles. You’ve known me for over a decade and you want to act like I have _wiles?_ ”

“It comes with your omega juice or whatever,” Hongbin snipes at him. “You could make an alpha do anything, right? Isn’t that what everyone says?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaebum says drily. “Because I’ve really gotten my way ever since I started leaking omega juice, right?”

Hongbin snorts in laughter, cuffing Jaebum’s shoulder. “Maybe you should get in touch with your omega side,” he suggests with a smirk. “See if you can get your big strong alpha husband to bend over backward for you.”

Jaebum cringes. “I think I’d rather run away and live as a hermit in the woods than try to do whatever you’re suggesting.”

“Boo, you’re boring.” Hongbin leans back against the wall, hands in his pockets as he regards Jaebum. “You know, if you’re going to be like this, things might actually suck as badly as you think they will.”

Beneath the light tone of their conversation, Jaebum can feel an undercurrent of tense truth running through their words.

Jaebum shrugs, trying to keep his demeanor casual. “I mean, if worst comes to worst, I can always just jump out a window.”

Hongbin makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Why do you always have to be so dramatic?”

“Dramatic?” Jaebum splutters. “First of all, it was a joke. Second of all, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my whole _life_ has gotten dramatic lately — ”

“Then don’t make it even more dramatic,” Hongbin interrupts. He purses his lips for a few seconds as if in thought, and then says, carefully not meeting Jaebum’s eyes, “I mean, if you get there and realize everything is shit, you can always just — I don’t know, call me in to kidnap you or whatever.”

Jaebum’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. This level of open concern from Hongbin is about as unprecedented as if he’d planted a kiss on Jaebum’s lips. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Hongbin clears his throat awkwardly. “I've got to keep myself sharp. Nothing like a little kidnapping to keep you on your toes.”

Jaebum tries not to stare at Hongbin in utter amazement. He considers giving him a slow clap for being outwardly considerate of other humans, but he thinks that might make Hongbin crawl under a table and disappear for the rest of his life. Instead, Jaebum huffs out a laugh and says, “It'd have to be pretty bad if I relied on calling your sorry ass in to save me.”

Hongbin squawks in indignation. “I offer my _life_ for you, and this is what I get?”

“Maybe you should’ve worked harder in training, then,” Jaebum teases.

“You should be grateful for me,” Hongbin grumbles. “You treat me like this and I’d still beat Cerisale’s asses for you. Why are we friends, again?”

“No one else wants to put up with you once they realize your pretty face is a lie,” Jaebum says bluntly.

“Well, ditto to you, Your Highness,” Hongbin says sarcastically.

Jaebum shrugs. “I never claimed otherwise.”

They keep bickering for as long as they dare, hidden in an alcove that shutters them from the rest of the world. It feels like old times. Even though it’s inconsequential banter, it’s the best thing that’s happened to Jaebum in weeks, and gratitude swells inside him. It makes him want to do something stupid like talk to Hongbin seriously or maybe place a brotherly hand on his shoulder, but he shakes it off.

He doesn’t want to do anything too different. He just wants to savor this moment as it is, try to pin it down in his mind so he can hold it close later, when everything changes.

At least he got this one last time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum had expected that the day of his departure would’ve been greeted with the usual pomp and circumstance favored by royalty. After all, this whole affair is going to result in the marriage of their eldest, and it might be the last time they see him in — well, Jaebum doesn’t really want to think about it.

Instead, it’s just like everything else that’s happened since Jaebum presented. Hushed, secretive, tinged with shame.

At least he gets one of the nicer carriages, Jaebum thinks glumly. Although, that might have less to do with his own comfort and more to do with the image his parents want to project to Cerisale. He’s not sure what makes him more sick with anger; the fact that this might be true, or the fact that he’s disillusioned enough with his own parents to think of it in the first place.

The only ones there to see him off are his parents, Youngjae, and the highest echelon of advisors. The hall feels unnaturally empty as they make their way through the main doors, feeling more like a procession for a funeral than one in preparation for a wedding. It doesn’t feel real, his body distant from his mind even as he hugs Youngjae a final time, kisses his mother on the cheek, bows to his father.

As he boards the carriage, he feels like he’s floating, not hearing anything from the beta guards trusted with his safety as they close the door behind him and ready the horses.

No, he thinks as the carriage begins to pull away. He watches the only home, the only family he’s ever known, slip away from him, unable to muster up any reaction. He’s not floating.

He’s in freefall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always to my darling betas [mara](http://twitter.com/biaswrecked91) and [lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistercacophony)!

It takes them a full week to make it to Cerisale by carriage. The only reason Jaebum knows this is because every time the sun claws itself up past the horizon, he uses the sharp edge of the clasp on his cloak to etch a tally into the soft wood next to his seat. He needs the physical reminder that time is real, because it feels warped and distant as they travel.

Jaebum feels like he hasn't actually been in his own body for days. He can't tell if this is better or worse than the hyperawareness he'd felt before he left. It doesn't help that his sleep schedule is a lost cause. Even though they stop during the nights to sleep in manors owned by nobility his family trusts, Jaebum can't bring himself to sleep there.

Their first night, he does try to sleep. He dreams — of cruel laughter, of rough hands on him, of sharp teeth at his throat, and no matter how much he tries to scream his voice is caught, stuck, _useless._ When he wakes up, he's immobilized in a twisted cocoon of fine silk sheets, his sweat has soaked the thick woolen blankets, and his own scent is so strong it makes him retch over the edge of the bed.

After that, Jaebum doesn't seek out sleep. It still happens, mostly when the rocking motion of the carriage lulls him into a peaceful enough state of mind, the window open and letting in a delicate breeze that reminds him of his orchard. When the exhaustion catches up with him, the fitful naps in the carriage can take the edge off; but by the time they reach Cerisale, he feels worn thin, jumpy and sore and tangled up in his own head.

When he steps out of the carriage, he feels the ground crunch beneath his feet, and he looks down in surprise. It never snows back home in Solune, but here, there’s a thick layer of it blanketing everything, from the path up to the front of the castle to the turrets and roofs themselves. The way the sunshine glints off of it, like someone's taken a summer's day and shone it through cold diamond, mesmerizes Jaebum, and he doesn't realize he's standing frozen in place until one of the guards quietly murmurs, "Your Highness," to get his attention.

The men who greet them and lead them into the castle are dressed in thick, fur-lined coats of deep burgundy, and it makes Jaebum suddenly aware of how cold he is in his own thin cloak, melting snow seeping through his shoes. He's grateful when they walk through the entrance hall, lined with looming fireplaces that ward off the chill. The men slip away with the promise of returning with the king and queen, bowing before they depart, leaving Jaebum alone with his guards in the hall.

Jaebum is faintly aware of the anxiety buzzing through him, the way his stomach feels like it's shriveling and his heart is pounding, but he distracts himself by taking in his surroundings. The size of the hall is comparable to that in his parents' castle, but it's clearly built to withstand colder winters. The walls are thick stone adorned with rich tapestries in pinks and red. The heavy fabric swallows up and muffles the crackling sounds from the fire and the quiet mumble of words between his guards, making it almost eerily quiet.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take long for the king and queen to appear, followed by a tall man with feline features to match his graceful gait. Jaebum has to admit, he'd thought they would have more important things to do than welcoming the future omega spouse of their youngest son.

But here they are, sweeping into the hall with a brief introduction from one of the men in red and standing before Jaebum with more candor than his own parents showed him.

Cerisale is fucking odd.

Even though the king and queen deserve more of Jaebum’s attention, he can’t help himself from staring at the young man with them. Is this him? The one he’s going to marry?

He’s incredibly pretty, like Jaebum’s father said his husband would be, but he doesn’t think this man could ever be mistaken for an omega, whether or not he had presented already. Confidence practically oozes out of him, from the upward tilt of his chin to the relaxed slope of his shoulders. When his eyes land on Jaebum, he swears he can feel the weight of them. Jaebum meets his gaze with as much confidence of his own as he can manage. In return, he gets a curious little smile, like the man is pleased with Jaebum’s show of stubbornness.

‘Prince Jaebum," the king says after Jaebum has greeted him with a deep bow. The king's voice is softer than his sharp features would indicate. “May I introduce you to my eldest, Hakyeon.”

Even as he bows, Jaebum can feel relief flood his body. This isn’t the one. Then again, that begs the question: where _is_ the one?

The king continues, not seeming to notice the way Jaebum’s shoulders slump slightly as some of the tension leaves them. "Welcome to your new home. We've been anticipating your arrival."

"Thank you for having me," Jaebum says stiffly. The words feel bitter in his mouth, but hopefully, his displeasure doesn't color his voice. "Your castle is beautiful."

"Wait until spring," the queen chimes in, her smile far wider than Jaebum had thought queens were allowed to smile, at least in front of strangers. "We have beautiful gardens, and when the cherry blossoms bloom, it's absolutely breathtaking."

"Ah," Jaebum manages. "I look forward to it." He's amazed he got anything out at all, because the queen's words make reality finally sink in for the first time since he left his home. Seasons will come and go in the time Jaebum spends here; he will age and time will pass, but he will never escape.

"Our Jinyoung has written beautiful poetry about it," the king adds. "If you have an interest in poetry, I'm sure you two will have plenty to talk about."

Hakyeon lets out a small laugh that Jaebum would think was insincere but for the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "If you don't already like poetry, I'm sure Jinyoung will do his best to convert you."

"Jinyoung?" Jaebum repeats hesitantly. Faced with the good humor and warmth of the trio before him, he feels horribly off-kilter. There's none of the distance that his parents always hold, even with their children, even with each other.

"Our youngest," the queen clarifies. "Your fiancé. He's out with his two other brothers on one of our estates further south right now. The winters here are harsh, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Jaebum nods numbly, even as a nagging voice in the back of his mind wonders why the hell he was shipped off on such short notice if his fiancé ( the word feels wrong to him, too romantic for this kind of arrangement) isn't even here yet.

The queen eyes his thin clothing sympathetically. "Of course, we can provide you with warmer clothes, and after you've become accustomed to our family and life here, you can travel with them the next time they go."

"It must be quite an adjustment for you," the king says.

Jaebum wants to say, _Everything in my life right now is quite an adjustment, thanks._ Instead, he bows his head, a habit he's learned is useful for hiding emotion from conversations with his father, and asks, "When will Jinyoung return?"

"The boys should already be on their way," the queen replies before frowning slightly. "We’d hoped they would be here today, but the snow must have held them back a bit."

The king makes a noise of agreement. "We apologize for the delay. Your father the king gave the impression that you wanted this to go through as quickly as possible, but you know how slow correspondence can be — "

The rest of the king's words fade out as Jaebum's head is overtaken by a buzz that he can't place. Sadness, maybe? Anger, probably. Indignation, absolutely.

"If I can be honest with you, Your Majesty," Jaebum says quietly at the next opening in the conversation, "the speed of all this isn't something I asked for."

Even though Jaebum isn’t looking at Hakyeon, he can feel the other’s piercing gaze on him. Feline wasn’t the right word to describe him, Jaebum thinks. Hawk-like is more accurate.

The queen's smile is smaller now, sadder. "I understand. When I was brought here, I'd had years to prepare for it and I still felt like it was all going too fast. I wish I could promise you that Cerisale will make you as happy as it's made me."

Jaebum swallows hard. The queen's gentle manner and kind words chafe at the still-healing wounds from how his own household, his own family treated him after his presentation — the pity, he realizes. The pity is what hurts the most.

"From what I know, your situation was difficult," the king says. "Difficult situations are best dealt with quickly, in my experience. The pain is sharp, but it won't last."

Difficult situations, Jaebum thinks sourly. He's become something to be dealt with, passed off to whoever is willing to put up with him. He looks at the king and queen's smiling faces and wonders if they really, truly know what it's like to be handed off like something rotten, something ruined.

For his parents, no, the pain won’t last. They’ve handled their problem, banished it from their thoughts and from their home so they don’t have to feel shame whenever they look at him. It's true even for Youngjae and Hongbin, Jaebum thinks, his heart squeezing painfully at the thought. They may miss him, but they face their own lives outside of missing Jaebum or dealing with his status.

For Jaebum, though, every day he’ll wake to a foreign castle, a family that isn’t his own, a body that betrayed him. The wound will be opened fresh every morning and Jaebum will never truly heal.

That, he thinks, isn’t something they’ll ever understand.

The king gives him a smile that Jaebum registers as reassuring, even if it does nothing to assuage the cold hopelessness that’s starting to set in. “We’ve set up chambers for you, and we’ll have one of the servants bring you clothes.”

“Some of Younghyun’s older winter clothes might fit him,” Hakyeon suggests. “They seem similar in size. Just until we can get him properly fitted clothes, of course.”

The king nods in agreement, but the queen cuts in, saying, “Giving Jaebum clothes with another alpha’s scent before he meets the alpha he’s going to marry might be...ill-advised.”

Jaebum watches this discussion about how to handle him happen right in front of him. They’re all so well-intentioned, he thinks, but it strikes all too close to home. He would rather freeze in his own clothing and be seen as his own person than borrow clothes that bear the weight of an alpha’s ownership.

“I can layer up my own clothing,” Jaebum offers, staring at the ground as he feels his cheeks flush with shame. A prince, supposedly, but one that isn’t even dressed properly. Could his parents really not wait long enough to warn him about the weather before getting rid of him?

“Hush,” Hakyeon says. “Let us take care of you.” It’s probably meant to be comforting, but instead, it comes across as dismissive.

Jaebum can feel his temper immediately skyrocket, but he bites his tongue. He imagines the letter he’ll write Hongbin later: _He’s exactly the kind of guy we used to make fun of in court all the time. Come visit immediately so we can laugh at him behind closed doors and you can tell me how much you want to punch him in the face._

Externally, he gives Hakyeon a smile that he hopes doesn’t appear as tight as it feels. Judging from how Hakyeon’s face falls, he probably failed.

“Whatever you think is best, Your Highness,” Jaebum says, diplomatic tone well-practiced from years with his father.

“What do _you_ think?” Hakyeon asks smoothly, keeping his tone nonchalant; but Jaebum can see a spark of something clever in his eyes, something that tells him Hakyeon is always one step ahead and always very, very aware. It makes Jaebum feel foolish.

There are few things in the world Jaebum hates more than feeling like a fool.

“Like I said, whatever you think is best,” he repeats. As if it matters what he thinks. As if anyone is under any illusions that it does.

Hakyeon's eyes narrow and Jaebum expects more knife-like words, sharp in their precision and pointed enough that Jaebum can feel the hidden questions Hakyeon has poking at him.

Instead, Hakyeon gives him a bland smile. "I appreciate your trust, Jaebum," he says, voice slick as oil. They both know trust hasn't come into play in any way in their relationship. "I'll do my best to make sure you're well taken care of."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Jaebum bows his head slightly, partly out of habit and partly because he doesn't trust himself not to glare at Hakyeon. Games aren't something Jaebum enjoys, at least not mind games, but it seems like they're all Hakyeon deals in.

The king seems to be oblivious to the silent tug of war between the two, but the queen is watching them with a quirked eyebrow and a small smile.

Jaebum feels another spike of irritation. This whole song and dance might be amusing to those who aren't actually affected by it, but Jaebum is exhausted. He hasn't slept in so long, but more importantly, he hasn't rested in even longer. He isn't sure of the last time he didn't wake with tension already corded through the muscles of his neck and shoulders, the last time he ate without it sitting heavy and sour in his stomach.

"You seem tired," the queen remarks. "Let's not keep you waiting." She gestures toward a door off to the side of the hall, and Jaebum realizes there's a pair of heads poking out from behind it and watching the proceedings curiously. "We'll have one of the boys show you to your quarters — "

"I can do it," Hakyeon offers, a touch too eager, and Jaebum has to fight the urge to snap at him.

"No need to trouble yourself," Jaebum says with as much politeness as he can manage. "It seems like these boys have it under control."

And Jaebum isn't lying when he says it. The two boys hiding behind the door are scampering in his direction, their clothing humble but not tattered or dirty. They look cared for, with cheeks full and eyes bright, and Jaebum thinks (perhaps a tad uncharitably) that even if he does become an omega plaything, at least they take care of their subordinates well here.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Jaebum," the king says warmly, and his voice sounds genuine in a way that Jaebum wants to trust. Then again, he'd wanted to trust his own parents, and look where that's landed him.

"The pleasure is all mine," Jaebum says, trying to inject as much feeling as he can, but the words still come out hollow.

"Welcome to the family, Jaebum," the queen says as they begin to leave the hall the way they came. "I hope you'll feel at home here soon enough."

All Jaebum can manage in response to that is a jerky nod. _Family._ The word feels rotten when he turns it over in his mind.

Hakyeon is the last in their little procession, and he's still looking at Jaebum a little too intensely, his head cocked in thought. "I look forward to getting to know you more," he says.

That's helpful, Jaebum wants to say. Not opaque at all. But even though Jaebum takes pride in his wits, he thinks that Hakyeon isn't the sort he wants to try in a match of the minds. He gets the feeling that there's far more to Hakyeon than his bright smiles and careful words.

Instead, he nods to Hakyeon the same way that he did to the queen, knowing that he can't return the crown prince's comment without being insincere. Lying to Hakyeon seems like a very bad idea.

Finally, Jaebum is alone again with his guards and the two servant boys. When he turns his eyes on them, they bow rather...enthusiastically, if Jaebum had to choose a word. That, and terrifyingly in sync.

"Hello, Your Majesty," the smaller one says breathlessly. "I'm Bambam, and that's — "

"Let me introduce myself," the taller one whines, elbowing Bambam. He turns to Jaebum and beams as if the prince didn't even witness their exchange. "Your Majesty, I'm Yugyeom. I'm excited to serve you!"

"We're both really excited," Bambam agrees, nodding earnestly. His eyes are so wide he looks more like a doll than a human, and Jaebum finds himself fighting back a snort of laughter. Lord, he can’t even remember the last time he felt like laughing.

"I can see that," Jaebum replies. "I'm afraid I'll probably disappoint you. I'm fairly boring."

"But you're from so far away," Yugyeom says, his voice tinged with envy. "You must've traveled and seen so much — "

"My parents are from really far away, too," Bambam interrupts. "And they tell me so many stories. Would you tell me stories?" He pauses before tacking on, "Your Majesty?"

"I — I don't really have many stories," Jaebum says, feeling a bit like he's been hit by a whirlwind rather than two servant boys. "My life is pretty boring. Or it was, I guess. This has all been...something."

"Maybe — " Bambam starts, but Yugyeom cuts him off by stepping on his foot.

"You must be exhausted after traveling so much, though," Yugyeom says demurely, ignoring Bambam's yelp of pain.

"You're _heavy,_ Gyeom," Bambam hisses, pouting.

Jaebum coughs lightly to get their attention. "My quarters? If you don't mind."

The pair almost fall over themselves to be the one in the lead as they guide Jaebum up the main staircase of the entrance hall, down a corridor with various heavy wooden doors set into it.

"These are your temporary quarters, of course," Bambam chirps. "Until you move into Jinyoung's."

The mention of his fiancé brings Jaebum crashing back down to earth after the brief reprieve the two have provided. He tries not to grimace, but he's not sure how well he manages it. At least the two boys are ahead of him instead of facing him. "Where are those, then?"

"Jinyoung stays right upstairs in the East Tower," Yugyeom says helpfully. "On account of the library being there. He chose it after he presented, like all the other princes."

"Younghyun didn't want it because he said the sun comes in too strong in the mornings and he likes his sleep," Bambam explains. "And Mark...what was Mark's reason, again?"

"He just wanted the larger quarters in the main castle instead of in a tower." Yugyeom shrugs. "Sounds fair to me."

Bambam snickers. "With a mate as loud as Jackson, I'd want quarters as large as I could get them, too. Can you imagine being _bonded_ to him?"

Jaebum watches the two of them speak with vague fascination. Younghyun is a familiar name — the alpha whose clothes Hakyeon had recommended giving to Jaebum — but Mark and Jackson are new names. With the casual tone these two servants are using, Jaebum can't help but wonder at how informally everyone behaves in this castle. Younghyun and Mark seem to be Jinyoung’s brothers, the remaining two brothers to complete the set of four, but would servants really speak so openly about a royal like this? And in front of Jaebum?

Then again, he thinks as he watches Bambam playfully hit Yugyeom's shoulder and Yugyeom respond by hip-checking Bambam into a wall, these two don't seem to have a particularly firm grasp on etiquette and formality.

"So here are your quarters," Bambam says, rubbing his shoulder where he hit the wall before they pull the doors open for Jaebum.

They're nice, Jaebum has to admit as he steps inside. There's been a nagging concern in the back of his brain that he hasn't quite been able to articulate, even to himself, but the sight of the plush bed, the roomy quarters, and the wide windows soothes some part of him that he didn't even realize needed it. Perhaps it's been a fear that he'll be treated as lower than his royal status because of his _other_ status, if he lets himself think about it.

“We’re the next level down,” Yugyeom says. “So if you need anything — laundry, hot water, help dressing — we’re easy to find.”

“Don’t be shy,” Bambam says cheerfully. Jaebum wonders if this exuberant child even knows the meaning of the word “shy.”

“We’ll get you those winter clothes Hakyeon was talking about,” Yugyeom says, taking Bambam by the hand and dragging him toward the door. “Other than that, we’ll get out of your hair for now.”

Jaebum thinks he can hear Bambam whisper something like _what are you doing, I wanted to ask him more,_ but he’s caught off guard by the fact that he’s being left alone again.

“Do — Do I need to do anything in particular to just” — Jaebum waves his hand vaguely. — “explore the castle? I mean, do I need a guard or a chaperone or anything?”

The pair fix him with eerily identical questioning looks.

“No?” Yugyeom says uncertainly, as if the question is so unprecedented that he doesn’t know how to answer.

“I mean, we could be your guides,” Bambam offers slowly. “We can show you around — ”

“Actually, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Jaebum says hastily. Merely the thought of spending his every waking moment with the two, as friendly as they are, is about enough to give him a headache. “So I can just wander freely?” He’s spent so long dreading his stay in Cerisale as some sort of prison sentence or punishment that this comes as a surprise.

“Of course,” Bambam says. “You’re one of the princes now, aren’t you?” He frowns and turns to Yugyeom. “That is how that works, right?”

Yugyeom cuffs Bambam’s shoulder. “Of course it does, idiot. What else would he become? A chambermaid?”

“I don’t _know,_ ” Bambam whines. “Maybe he’d become a — a duke or something — ”

“That doesn’t even make _sense —_ ”

“Nothing about monarchy makes sense, you moldy fungus — ”

“Please,” Jaebum says a little desperately. Thankfully, the two seem to come to themselves and stop their bickering, having the grace to look at least a bit ashamed. “Thank you both for showing me my quarters and being so” — _loud_ — “welcoming. I’ll see you again when you bring the clothes, right?”

They nod eagerly and reassure him they’ll see him soon.

“I think I’ll sleep now, then. Maybe bring the clothes tomorrow, once I’m awake?”

Their faces brighten. Jaebum thinks it’s probably because this means they have one less duty today. He should probably be worried, since they seem like the type to get up to plenty of mischief, but he can’t bring himself to be when they beam widely at him and bow hastily before dashing out the door.

Finally, truly alone, Jaebum sighs. The empty sound is swallowed up by the heavy tapestries on the wall and luxurious rugs covering the floor, much like in the entrance hall. It's unnaturally silent, a stark contrast to the cacophony of thoughts in Jaebum's mind.

He walks over to the bed and smooths a hand over the blanket, feeling how the wool is so finely spun it doesn't scratch even a bit, before he pulls the covers back. The sheets are pink, he registers. He wonders if it was intentional (Cerisale does seem to be fond of the color of cherry blossoms, after all), or if it’s simply stained from all the red fabric that seems to coat every surface of the castle.

He sits on the bed to unlace his shoes, too weary to mind the grime on him from traveling. Once he's free, he tosses his cloak to the foot of the bed and burrows underneath the covers. There's a decided lack of regality to it all. Jaebum couldn't care less.

All he cares about is that his body finally, _finally_ lets itself be dragged down into oblivious, blissful sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum wakes gasping, clutching at the sheets, a nightmare still flashing across the backs of his eyelids as he flails wildly in his bed. His surroundings are unfamiliar, only making his heart pound even more.

It can only be a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime before he realizes where he is and his memories flood back in. Cerisale. He's in the castle of the king and queen of Cerisale. There's nothing to fear here except extraordinarily mouthy servants.

He lies back down on his back, dragging slow breaths in between his teeth. At least, he thinks drily, he didn't get sick this time. Although, that might just be because there's nothing in his stomach in the first place.

Jaebum casts a glance at the window, noting that it's dark outside. He'd fallen asleep before the sun had set. He's probably fucked up his sleep schedule, especially if the fact that he's up before sunrise is any indication, but he doubts his stomach will let him sleep now.

He gives himself a few more minutes to calm down before pulling himself out of bed and into his cloak and shoes. There's a gritty feeling that chafes at his whole body, the kind that comes from not washing and sleeping in his day clothes. He regrets sending Bambam and Yugyeom away without asking for hot water for a bath first.

He can deal with that tomorrow, though. For now, there's one thing on his mind: finding and hopefully raiding the larder.

Jaebum takes a candle with him to light the way. The hot wax drips down and collects in the holder, warming his hand and making him painfully aware of how cold the rest of him is. If he'd thought he was cold before, it's nothing compared to the frigid night air. Even the occasional fireplace and torches for lighting can't warm him through properly, and his teeth chatter as he heads for the stairs. The larder must be near the servant quarters, and the boys had said before that they were down below, right?

However, when he reaches the spiral staircase at the end of the hall, he's derailed by his nose. There's something delicious, something he can't name or place wafting not from downstairs, but from up. Jaebum's still half-asleep brain can't process it.

It's...sweet, maybe? Spicy, but in the way that the sweets he used to sneak down to the farmers market in Solune to buy were, less sharp and more heady. Those sweets he used to take home and toast over the fire, almost burning his fingers. Warm, he realizes, is the best way to describe the smell.

 _Follow it,_ something more primitive than his mind tells him. His body goes to follow, rushing toward the stairs so fast that some of the wax spills over and trickles down the back of his hand. The pain pulls him out of the haze and he blinks blearily, feeling as if he's woken up a second time.

He registers footsteps coming down the staircase in front of him and he jolts back, spilling even more wax onto his hand and making him hiss at the burn.

The footsteps pause. "Who's there?" a voice calls out, and now Jaebum is awake enough to register who it is. He feels his stomach sink.

His suspicions are confirmed when the footsteps resume their path down the stairs and owner of the voice steps into the candlelight.

Hakyeon, damn him, looks regal even in his cherry blossom pink sleep robes. He smiles fondly at Jaebum.

Jaebum is still irritable from lack of sleep and the stinging pain in his hand, so he can't stop himself. He narrows his eyes suspiciously back. At least no one's here to see him disrespect the crown prince, he thinks.

But with that thought comes a cold realization — he's let himself be caught alone with an alpha.

Hakyeon must be bonded — Jaebum can't detect the distinctive scent of unbonded alpha on him — but that's small consolation. Jaebum still doesn't want to be alone with him. If he’s entirely honest with himself, he thinks it has less to do with the fact that Hakyeon is an alpha and more to do with the fact that he's freakishly perceptive and looks at Jaebum in a way that reminds him uncomfortably of a cat eyeing a mouse. Even from one meeting, Jaebum can tell that Hakyeon likes prying. Maybe Jaebum isn't being fair, but in his defense, Hakyeon does act just a bit creepy.

Like this. What the hell is Hakyeon even doing out in this part of the castle in the middle of the night?

Hakyeon laughs and Jaebum realizes he must've voiced his question out loud. He winces. Damn his sleep-addled brain.

"I was just visiting someone," Hakyeon says nonchalantly. "And you, Jaebum? If you're looking for anything in particular, I'd be happy to help."

"Nothing," Jaebum says stubbornly. Of course, his stomach decides at this moment to let out a vicious growl that's obvious to both of them.

Hakyeon raises his eyebrows. "The kitchens, then?"

Jaebum's resistance to accept help, especially from Hakyeon, battles with the hunger gnawing away at his gut. Eventually, though, his stomach wins.

He nods reluctantly. "Yes, if you don't mind. Your Highness," he tacks on belatedly, his brain finally starting to get up to speed.

Hakyeon laughs as he steps forward to Jaebum's side. "There's no need for formalities, Jaebum. We're going to be brothers soon, after all."

It's a testament to Jaebum's hunger that the thought doesn't put a dent in his appetite. "Then I'll drop the formalities after the wedding," Jaebum hedges.

Hakyeon sighs in a very put-upon fashion. "If you insist." He holds out his elbow, and it takes Jaebum a moment to realize that he intends for Jaebum to take it.

He stares blankly at it. "I thought I wasn't supposed to touch other alphas that aren't — " His voice catches before he can say _my fiancé_ or _Jinyoung._ He settles for finishing, "Him."

He's shocked when Hakyeon laughs so hard he doubles over. It's the least princely Jaebum has seen him, and it's frankly disarming.

"Hakyeon?" he asks hesitantly.

"You're a funny one, Jaebum," Hakyeon says with no explanation as he straightens up. He slips his arm through Jaebum's, and Jaebum is surprised by how gentle the movement is. In fact, he realizes that if this were a traditional relationship, Hakyeon's position would typically be taken by a woman. He can't tell if Hakyeon did it on purpose, but the gesture makes Jaebum relax ever so slightly.

Who is Jaebum kidding? This is Hakyeon. Of course, he did it on purpose.

However, when Hakyeon tugs on his arm to lead him in the right direction, Jaebum tenses right back up again and snatches his arm back. There's still too much anxiety running through him; he can't tell if it's from his nightmare or if this is just the fear omegas always have to live with around alphas.

Hakyeon halts, looking at Jaebum with hurt in his eyes. It makes him look far younger, and Jaebum realizes that Hakyeon might not be much older than him at all.

"Jaebum," Hakyeon says slowly. "Why did you do that?"

Jaebum stiffens. Hakyeon doesn't even know why Jaebum is afraid of him. He can't even conceptualize the uneven ground they stand on — an omega plucked from his home and shipped to a land as foreign to him as the concept of presenting an omega in the first place versus an alpha secure in his right to the throne of an entire kingdom.

He can't say that, though. Instead, he shrugs, bares his teeth in a half-smile, half-grimace, and lies. "I don't want to smell like...anyone else." He grasps onto the excuse from earlier like a lifeline.

Of course, Hakyeon sees through it. He still looks hurt, but now he looks disappointed, too. It affects Jaebum more than he wants to admit.

"You know I won't hurt you, right?" Hakyeon says quietly.

"How am I supposed to know that?" Jaebum shoots back.

Hakyeon purses his lips, studying Jaebum. "I suppose you're right," he says finally.

Surprise makes Jaebum's mouth drop open. He hadn't expected Hakyeon to be the sort of person to admit he could ever be wrong.

"Clearly, I don't understand what makes you so afraid," Hakyeon continues. His eyes pin Jaebum down, and he feels like he can do nothing but squirm under his piercing gaze.

"I'm not — " Jaebum starts hotly.

"You are," Hakyeon interrupts. He states it so simply, like a given quantity, that it stops Jaebum in his tracks. "And I don't think it's your fault. But it isn't our fault either, Jaebum."

"What do you mean?" Jaebum asks, feeling like the conversation has suddenly been elevated to a level far over his head.

Hakyeon shrugs. “I don’t think I can explain it to you right now. I don’t think you’re ready.”

Jaebum feels the corners of his mouth pull down into a scowl. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll just get angry,” Hakyeon replies. “You’re _already_ getting angry.”

“Because you’re being difficult,” Jaebum snaps. “Explain it so I can be _not_ angry, then.”

Hakyeon smiles at him, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it that keeps Jaebum from truly flying off the handle. “You’re building walls around yourself right now, Jaebum. I can’t do anything about that, not without making you hate me.” He pauses. “Well, not any more than you already do.”

“I don’t… _hate_ you,” Jaebum says slowly. “Hate is a strong word.”

Hakyeon chuckles. “I like you. I think our whole family likes you, or at least has the potential to.” He cocks his head and scans Jaebum.

Jaebum feels rather like a book being read.

“I hope you can too, someday,” Hakyeon says abruptly before turning on his heel and walking away.

“You hope I can _what_ too?” Jaebum asks, bewildered. The conversation feels like a fever dream, and he’s starting to wonder if he’s made it all up in his mind.

Instead of answering his question, Hakyeon waves his hand behind him. “The kitchens and larder are downstairs, by the way. Eat your fill. The cooks are too soft to punish anyone, that’s how Bambam and Yugyeom ended up like that.”

Jaebum watches Hakyeon’s receding back, torn between chasing after him to demand he explain himself and heading downstairs to finally eat.

Eventually, his stomach grumbles in protest, and Jaebum gives Hakyeon one last questioning look before following his instructions and taking the winding staircase down.

Hakyeon hadn’t lied to him — Jaebum’s found the food, and he thinks he knows what heaven will look like when it opens up its gates.

He notices a massive stockpile of oranges, an achingly familiar sight, and he laughs a little to himself as he takes one.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” he asks them before glancing around nervously. He might get a certain reputation if he’s caught holding one-sided conversations with fruits.

It’s tempting to gorge himself on all the food he finds, but he limits himself to just eating until he’s full. He still doesn’t feel entirely at ease here, and while Hakyeon had said the cook was lenient, Jaebum doesn’t necessarily want to test it for himself.

When he’s carefully rearranged the spaces on the shelves to look like nothing’s been taken, he climbs back up the stairs. He’s planning on going back to his room and sleeping until the day starts, but when he enters the stairwell he realizes he’s a bit late; the pink light of dawn is already filtering through one of the narrow windows in the tower.

He does a double take when he opens the door to his quarters. Maybe he has the wrong room; he didn’t leave heavy cloaks and sturdy boots across the trunk at the foot of his bed —

Bambam and Yugyeom, he realizes. They must’ve already been here to bring the clothes they’d promised. It’s a good thing Jaebum was already up and about. If this had been a normal day, Jaebum would have still been fast asleep as the sun rose. He’ll have to talk to the boys about when it is and isn’t appropriate to bother him.

When he slips on the cloak, it’s even warmer than it looks, cocooning Jaebum in his own body heat with fur and thickly woven crimson fabric. At first glance, the boots look too big, but when he pulls on the wool socks provided to him, he finds they fit just fine.

Jaebum breathes out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being warm.

Now, to explore the castle and grounds while hopefully avoiding any obnoxiously prescient crown princes.

The conversation Jaebum had with the trio of royals the day before had left his head spinning, but at least one thing stuck. Gardens with fruit trees, the queen had said. Cherry trees, but maybe if Jaebum climbed high enough and closed his eyes, he could pretend it was his own orchard.

He’d glimpsed the trees from the window in the tower, so he has a general idea of which direction to go. Still, he ends up asking one of the guards, who doesn’t seem to know quite how to address him. Jaebum’s instinct is to be insulted when the guard has to visibly remind himself to call Jaebum “Your Majesty,” but he has to admit that this seems to be a trend in this castle. Formality falls by the wayside in favor of meddling in other people’s business.

He follows the guard’s instructions, traipsing back down the stairs toward the kitchen and using a door there to exit out the east side of the castle toward the gardens. There must be a more appropriate way for royals to enter the garden that doesn’t involve going near the kitchens, but Jaebum doesn’t mind this. If anything, it will be more discreet in the future when he doesn’t want to alert the entire castle to his whereabouts.

There’s a path through the snow toward high hedges that line what must be the garden. They’re not like any plant they have in Solune; their leaves are more like needles, and when Jaebum touches one tentatively, he immediately snatches back his hand with a curse as the plant draws blood.

Glaring at the hedges, Jaebum steps through the archway that leads into the garden and promptly has his breath stolen away.

The only part of the gardens in Solune that had been of any note was the orchard, in Jaebum's opinion. Everything else was low hedges and flower bushes. They were well-maintained, of course, as any royal garden should be, but they don’t hold a candle to the gardens of Cerisale.

The path that Jaebum is on splits, meandering through the garden in slowly curving loops and turns. While there is a stand of precisely uniform cherry trees off to his left, there are also larger, gnarled trees that grow along the path, clearly having been there so long that the path had been forged around them rather than them being planted purposefully. It lends a kind of whimsy to the garden, a strange sort of freedom in the kind of space Jaebum had always associated with order.

There are more hedges here, lower than the ones lining the perimeter, but still enough to give the garden an almost labyrinthine feel. Combined with the way the snow blanketing everything makes every sound feel quiet and small, Jaebum feels almost like he’s found a secret nook as opposed to the main gardens of Cerisale’s royalty.

Jaebum eyes the orchard for just a moment before settling instead on the thickest, oldest tree he can see curving over the path.

The wood feels frigid to the touch when he starts climbing, and the thickness of his boots makes his toes keep slipping as he tries to get a grip on the bark, but Jaebum grits his teeth and continues. This is something as familiar to him as breathing, an escape that’s always been there for him.

When he hauls himself up into the branches, he can look down over the garden. It’s a familiar vantage point, at least in theory, but everything is wrong — the lush winding hedges, the icy feel of the wood beneath his hands, the lack of foliage on the branches that leaves Jaebum exposed even in his hiding place. He wants to hit something, but the only thing within reach are the frozen branches of the tree and he thinks they might snap off if he handles them too roughly.

Jaebum sits in the tree as the sun rises fully in the sky, going from pink to almost blinding white that he has to squint against even when he isn’t looking in the direction of the sun. He’d never thought that a winter sun could be as intense as the summer in Solune, but he might be forced to reevaluate that.

“Your Majesty!” he hears a voice call through the garden. There’s a panicked edge to it. “Prince Jaebum!”

He debates hiding away in the branches and ignoring whoever it is, but as the person draws closer, Jaebum realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s Yugyeom. Even though this castle doesn’t seem like the type to exact strict punishments on its servants, Jaebum doesn’t want to risk making Yugyeom pay just because a prince is feeling a bit ornery.

“Up here,” Jaebum says, loud enough that Yugyeom should be able to place him.

When Yugyeom stops below the branches, panting slightly, he fixes Jaebum with a glare that reeks of insubordination. “Your Highness,” he whines. “What are you doing up there?”

“Enjoying the weather,” Jaebum replies through chattering teeth.

Yugyeom crosses his arms petulantly.

“Really, Yugyeom,” Jaebum says, feeling a bit guilty when he sees how the boy’s pants are soaked up to the knee with melted snow. “I was just exploring and trying to get some fresh air.”

“You weren’t trying to hide?” Yugyeom asks suspiciously.

“Why would I be hiding?”

“We thought you might’ve heard the news and decided to be contrary.” Yugyeom turns his head and yells over his shoulder, “ _Bam, I found him, get over here._ ”

‘What news?” Jaebum demands as soon as Yugyeom’s facing him again.

“The princes are back,” Yugyeom tells him as a panting Bambam trots around the corner to take his side. “They arrived yesterday right after you went to bed, actually.”

“We went to check on you but you were already passed out,” Bambam chips in. “Drooling on your pillow and everything.”

“Thank you, Bambam,” Jaebum says drily.

“Anytime,” the boy says with a smile.

“But that’s why we came to get you,” Yugyeom explains. “They want you to meet the others as soon as possible.”

“They’re actually waiting for you right now,” Bambam says. “But then when we went to your room to get you, you weren’t there.”

“We had to ask the guard you talked to about where you went,” Yugyeom adds. "Anyway, get down out of that tree, you’ve got the whole royal family waiting on you.”

Jaebum winces at the words. What a first impression to leave on his fiancé — late because he was busy having an existential crisis up in a tree.

Then again, he thinks as he finds his way back to earth, it’s not like his behavior is really going to affect how any of this goes. The marriage will go forward, no matter what Jaebum does.

The thought is sobering. As Jaebum’s feet touch the ground, he feels the weight of reality settles back on his shoulders and he exhales heavily. “Let’s not keep them waiting any longer, then.”

Yugyeom leads their odd little trio back to the castle while Bambam hovers around Jaebum, fussing over the mud and melted snow he’s gotten on his trousers. Instead of the entrance hall or a grand hall, they take him to a room that looks more like a parlour, clearly meant for entertaining small, personal parties as opposed to large events.

Jaebum takes in the royal family waiting for him and feels horribly out of place.

Next to Hakyeon, three new boys have taken their places, completing the set. Altogether, they cut an imposing image — each one has a sharp handsomeness to his features, and each has a presence that commands respect or attention in some way.

Jaebum, by contrast, is muddied and scraped up slightly from clambering around trees like a monkey. And of course, he can’t forget: he’s an omega, inherently a step below them. He’s never felt more aware of his own shortcomings, and he has to resist the urge to wrap his cloak tightly around himself. There’s nowhere to hide, he reminds himself. The only thing he can do now is keep his head up and face the future decreed to him with bravery.

Jaebum eyes the boys next to Hakyeon warily. One of these is his future mate, and he has no idea which one he would prefer it to be.

"Introduce yourselves to Jaebum, dears," the queen urges them.

"I'm Younghyun," the first one says, bowing to Jaebum just as deeply as Hakyeon had the day before. It still makes Jaebum want to snap, to tell this Younghyun he doesn't have to pretend to respect him when they all know that isn't the case. When Younghyun straightens, though, his sharp features soften into a bright smile. It starts up an ache in Jaebum's chest; the only other person he knows who smiles so fully, so warmly, is Youngjae. “Welcome to Cerisale.”

“Thank you,” Jaebum says stiffly, returning the bow.

The next one introduces himself as Mark, and out of the three, he’s the one that stands out as the most alpha. When he opens his mouth to speak, his lips pull back to reveal teeth like knives, and Jaebum is horribly reminded of his nightmares where teeth just like that were at his throat; but Mark's voice is soft and he bows just as deeply as his brothers.

Jaebum can't tell if they're mocking him with this display or just trying to set him at ease so he'll go quietly. Either way, he can feel his hackles rise and he clenches his jaw so hard his teeth ache, trying to keep his temper in check.

The final brother is different. Where the others have sharp, fine features, he looks...soft, if Jaebum had to pick a word. Pretty.

Jaebum's stomach sinks as he remembers his father's words. _A pretty face, too. They thought he was going to present as an omega._

This must be Jinyoung.

In all fairness, he can see why this man is known for being pretty. There's a softness to his cheeks and nose, and his eyes are rounded, gentle. He gives Jaebum a smile after he bows, and it makes the skin around his eyes crinkle into whiskers that make him seem younger. In another life, under different circumstances, Jaebum can see himself chasing after him of his own free will, making a fool of himself to see that smile.

As it is, any attraction Jaebum feels is dampened by the dawning realization that this boy is his future. No questions asked.

"I'm your fiancé," the boy says by way of greeting. "If you'll have me, that is."

The tension that's been building in Jaebum wells up and bursts out of him in a bark of laughter.

Jinyoung's smile wavers slightly, his eyes sharpening, and oh, maybe Jaebum made a grave miscalculation by thinking him soft. "Is something funny to you?"

Aware of all the eyes on him, Jaebum says carefully, "I wasn't under the impression that whether or not I'll _have you_ was really relevant here."

The smile tightens, the crinkles around his eyes disappearing. “I’m sorry you were under that impression,” Jinyoung says, his voice steeped in rigid formality now, like a door slamming shut in Jaebum’s face. “I thought this was a mutual agreement.”

“Sure,” Jaebum allows. “A mutual agreement between you and my parents. I didn’t come into the picture until the time came to ship me off as quickly as possible, like goods about to spoil.”

“Jaebum,” the queen says quietly. “I assure you that if you don’t want to go through with this wedding, everyone here will respect your decision.”

“It doesn’t matter, though,” Jaebum says, frustration bubbling over. “Even if I don’t marry him,” — He jerks his chin to indicate Jinyoung, who takes a step back as if Jaebum has dealt him a physical blow. — “it’ll be someone else. It’s — It’s just what my life is, now. Even when it seems like I have a decision, I don’t really.” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “I won’t ever really have a choice again.”

There’s pity in the queen’s eyes again, but Jaebum can’t find it in him to be angry at her for it. “I told you before that I can’t promise you that Cerisale will make you happy. What I can promise you is that we will treat you as well as we can. I’m sure Jinyoung agrees.”

Jinyoung nods stiffly. There isn’t any trace now of the boy that Jaebum had thought he may have chased in another life. Jaebum hadn’t even realized how open Jinyoung’s face was until it became shuttered, carefully wiped clean of any emotion besides regal impartiality. He’s entirely unreadable now, and it reminds Jaebum uncannily of Hakyeon.

Jaebum can feel the curious looks he’s getting from the brothers — Hakyeon’s characteristic hawk-like gaze, a worried expression from Younghyun, and a quiet sharpness around Mark’s edges — but he can’t look away from Jinyoung. By contrast, Jinyoung seems to be looking anywhere but at Jaebum.

“I think,” Jinyoung says quietly, “I would like to spend some time in the library, if we’ve concluded here.”

Jaebum feels suspicion well up inside him. The statement is unnaturally nonconfrontational compared to what Jaebum would expect from an alpha, but he can’t read any ulterior motive on Jinyoung’s face. Maybe now that Jinyoung’s seen what he’s signed himself up to marry, Jaebum thinks, he’s less enthusiastic about spending time with him. It gives Jaebum a little thrill of victory; even if he can’t control so many aspects of his life, he can at least not be the perfect docile omega that Jinyoung had probably expected. It’s small consolation, but at least it’s something Jaebum can grasp onto.

“I think that would be fine,” the king allows. “After all, you do have a bit longer to get to know each other before the wedding.” He laughs far too cheerfully for the tense atmosphere of the room. “And then a lifetime to get to know each other after that.”

The statement falls flat. The queen is too busy eyeing her youngest son to pay her husband any mind, and the three brothers are all focused on Jaebum, as if he’s a peculiar specimen they’re studying. The only response the king gets is from Jinyoung.

“Indeed,” Jinyoung says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I think it’d be best to leave Jaebum be, anyhow. He seems to have developed a fondness for adventuring.” His eyes drag up Jaebum’s bottom half with a coolly judgmental stare, and Jaebum becomes painfully aware of the mud and half-dried dampness of his clothes. Now that he thinks about it, he might be able to feel a slight breeze through a hole in the knee of his trousers.

He doesn’t give Jinyoung the satisfaction of showing his shame, though. He keeps his chin held high and keeps his eyes on Jinyoung as he says, “I quite like the gardens.”

Jinyoung’s eyes fly up to his face, and there’s a hint of the openness from before. They’re so expressive, Jaebum thinks. He can see hints of curiosity, questions beginning to form; but then Jinyoung collects himself again, arranging his features into careful neutrality. “They’re beautiful,” he agrees. “Particularly in the spring.”

“So I’ve been told,” Jaebum replies, glancing toward the queen. She’s watching them with her head tilted ever so slightly, and her eyes sparkle with an intelligence that Jaebum is becoming all too familiar with from Hakyeon and now Jinyoung. “So you can spend your day in the library, and I’ll return outside.”

Jinyoung gives him a small, polite smile. “Lovely.” He tilts his head slightly in deference to his parents. “Thank you for this meeting. It’s been wonderful to see you all again.” He nods to Jaebum. “And an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jaebum says, more out of habit than anything.

Once the door swings shut behind Jinyoung, Mark says, “Well, this is going to be interesting, isn’t it?”

The queen sighs. “Mark, please.”

“He’s not wrong,” Hakyeon points out. “Jaebum is going to be quite a lot for our Jinyoung to handle.”

Mark shrugs. “It’ll be good for him. Develops character.”

“You’re talking about Jaebum like he’s a horse or some kind of pet to teach Jinyoung a lesson,” Younghyun reprimands.

You’re also talking about me like I’m not here, Jaebum thinks. But maybe it’s better like this; this way, Jaebum can inch toward the door and slip out while the royal family keeps discussing the upcoming marriage of their youngest son.

Just as he’s closing the door behind him, he catches the queen’s eye, and she gives him a indecipherable smile. It sets Jaebum off-balance enough that he almost lets the door slam shut behind him.

They’re an odd bunch, Jaebum thinks as he finds his way back to the gardens and finds his tree again. They don’t act in any way similar to what Jaebum had grown up with, and each of them seems honed to a sharpness that has nothing to do with alpha strength or dominance. They’re sly, he realizes, and as smart as they come.

Jaebum looks over the twisted, curving labyrinth of the gardens and starts to wonder what he’s truly gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all so much for the response to this fic!! your comments really keep me going whenever i hit a rough patch (e.g., writing this entire chapter) and i appreciate them so much ^^


	3. Chapter 3

After meeting the whole family, Jaebum fears that he might have limitations put on him because of his behavior, especially with the castle now crawling with alphas.

But he’s left in the same peace that he’d had before. There isn’t a guard assigned to watch him, he isn’t informed of any new rules, and he’s free to wander the castle as he pleases. It doesn’t feel real after what had happened back in Solune.

As much as Jaebum enjoys exploring the gardens and the castle, there’s only so long he can spend doing that before his mind grows restless. Thoughts circle through his mind like a restless animal on a wheel, going nowhere and accomplishing nothing except giving him a splitting headache and a sharp pain in his stomach from anxiety.

One day, when Yugyeom has brought him hot water for a bath, Jaebum clears his throat to get his attention before he can leave.

"Yugyeom, you mentioned a library around here, right?"

"Yeah," Yugyeom responds with a bright smile. He always seems so eager to please, especially when Bambam isn't around to distract him. It's endearing, but it's also painful for Jaebum; it prods at the tender spot he's nursed for Youngjae all his life, makes him remember loud laughs and warm hugs and simpler times.

"Do you think you could show me when I'm done here?"

"Sure!" Yugyeom cocks his head. "I could just help you bathe, if you want — "

"No, no," Jaebum says quickly, the idea making him wince. "That's — let's not."

Yugyeom shrugs. "Whatever you say, Your Highness."

When Jaebum is bathed and clothed, Yugyeom leads him out of his quarters. He expects it to be far away, but instead, he's guided to the same spiral staircase that connects his corridor to the kitchens and servants' quarters. This time, though, he's led upward — the direction Hakyeon had come from that night he'd spoken to Jaebum.

They pass two levels that open up into corridors similar to Jaebum's floor before they step off the stairs and into a wide foyer in front of massive wooden double doors.

"Here it is," Yugyeom says, nodding at the entrance. "Right through the doors. It's easy to find from your quarters, I think."

"It is," Jaebum agrees, running his hand along the polished wood of the door before reaching for the handle.

Jaebum had figured the library would be fairly large, considering the doors and the foyer. He hadn't anticipated, though, that it would be lined with towering windows that nearly reach the high, arched ceiling; he hadn't anticipated the shelves along the walls, carefully arranged in rows, to be so high that there would be ladders neatly set against them.

It looks like a fairytale, gilded and polished and drenched in the glimmering winter sun.

"Thank you," Jaebum breathes. He's not entirely sure who he's thanking, but he can feel the gratitude all the same.

"You're welcome," Yugyeom answers. Well, that works. "I'll leave you to it, then."

The library is a welcome reprieve. After all the ways Jaebum's life has been turned on its head, after all the foreignness of Cerisale and its inhabitants, the books are a comfort Jaebum hadn't realized he'd missed so much. He can find the volumes he used to read to Youngjae, stories about knights on quests or witches in the night. He can take them up into the gnarled old cherry tree in the garden that he's starting to think of as his, and he can read until his fingers are too numb from cold to turn the pages.

He can pretend that nothing has changed.

Today, Jaebum is walking between the shelves for music and mythology, scanning for any titles that jump out. He angles his head to read the spine of one of the books. _Pianoforte: The Principles and Practices._ Youngjae was just starting to learn how to play, Jaebum reflects, his fingers ghosting over the stiff leather binding before pulling it off the shelf.

He almost drops the book with a yelp when behind the book there is, instead of the wooden paneling or empty space that Jaebum expected, a pair of bright eyes.

“What’re you reading?” comes the voice, and Jaebum very briefly wonders if he’s lost his mind or stepped into an alternate universe where bookshelves have eyes and can talk.

"Ooh, pianoforte?" The eyes widen with interest. "You play?"

"Um, no," Jaebum says, not entirely sure why he's talking to someone or something that he can't see. Shock, maybe? "My baby brother — "

"I've never seen a baby who could play piano," the voice interrupts before breaking off into a cackle of self-satisfied glee. It sounds vaguely witch-like. Jaebum's never believed in magic, but whatever the hell is going on here might make him start.

"I — who are you?" Jaebum asks, feeling lost.

"The ghost who lives in the library." Another loud peal of laughter makes the hair on Jaebum's arms stand on end. "Just kidding. I'm your brother-in-law!"

The face disappears from the gap in the shelving, and a few seconds later a man is making his way down the aisle Jaebum's in.

"I thought I met all my future in-laws already," Jaebum says faintly.

"Nah, you just met the ones who were born here." The man keeps coming nearer until he's standing closer than Jaebum usually lets anyone stand. Not even Hongbin used to get this close unless they were roughhousing. "I'm married to the pretty one."

"I thought Jinyoung was the pretty one," Jaebum says without thinking.

"Jinyoung is easy on the eyes," the man agrees. "But have you _seen_ Mark?"

Married to Mark, Jaebum thinks, and it jogs a memory in his brain, something Yugyeom and Bambam had mentioned when they were taking Jaebum to his quarters. "Are you...Jack? Jackson?"

The man places his hand over his heart and his eyes widen. "You _know_ me," he says tenderly, and then he wraps his arms around Jaebum in a hug so tight it knocks the breath out of him. "You're my new favorite brother already!"

"I'm not even your brother yet," Jaebum wheezes. "And if you keep squeezing me like this, I don't think I'm going to make it to the wedding."

"Oh, man." Jackson lets go of him and dusts him off aggressively, the swipes of his hands feeling more like blows with the strength behind his movements. "Better not break you, Jinyoungie will have my head." He winks at Jaebum. "And not the fun one."

Jaebum is torn between wanting to snicker at the dirty joke and wanting to snap at the implication that he's Jinyoung's thing to break. He settles on saying, "If you break me, Jinyoung will be the least of your worries."

Instead of responding to the threat like anyone back in Solune would — there have been times that even Hongbin withered under his glare — Jackson laughs in his face.

"Clearly, you still need to get to know Jinyoung better," Jackson says, sounding far too happy about it. "He's _scary,_ man. He's way more than just a pretty face."

Jaebum feels as though he's been tossed out into the Cerisale snow, a chill sweeping down his spine. "What do you mean?" he asks, trying to keep his tone even.

Jackson doesn't seem to notice the shift in Jaebum's mood. "I mean, he's all smiley and cute, right? And he's got those little eye crinkles that look like whiskers so he looks like a kitten. It's all really convincing."

"I know he's not just a kitten," Jaebum says, slightly insulted that Jackson thinks he'd be taken in so easily. Then again, he thinks, hadn't he been taken in at first? Isn't that at least part of why he’d started running his mouth?

"Okay, fair," Jackson allows. "But if you don't admit he can be at least a little scary, then you clearly don't know him very well yet."

"I don't know him at all, actually." As he says it, Jaebum realizes how true it is.

The look of surprise on Jackson's face seems genuine this time instead of just for show. "Don't you want to get to know him?" he asks. "Before the wedding and all?"

"I — I don't know," Jaebum admits. "It still feels kind of unreal, you know? It's kind of distant."

"I guess?" Jackson says, and Jaebum can tell he doesn't really get it. "It was different for me, honestly. Mark and I grew up knowing each other because my parents used to come to Cerisale on state matters. They brought me along to visit with the other kids." He laughs, actually looking a little shy as the memory washes over him. "I told Mark when we were ten that I was going to marry him someday. We really got lucky with how things turned out."

Jackson looks so blissful as he recalls everything. It makes Jaebum ache with jealousy, and he hates himself a little bit for it.

"I was so thrilled when I presented as an omega," Jackson says with a nostalgic sigh, and Jaebum blanches at the very thought. "Because Mark had already presented as an alpha, you know? And I think we would've been fine no matter what, really, but me being an omega — it just made everything easier."

"That's...not my experience with presenting as an omega," Jaebum manages. That's putting it mildly, he thinks.

"Yeah, I heard this whole thing was kind of a rush job," Jackson says sympathetically. "But it's going to be all right!" He grins widely and Jaebum feels reassured almost despite himself. He thinks Jackson might just be one of those people who makes everything feel a little more okay. "Life is way easier as a bonded omega than an unbonded one, I'll tell you that right now."

"What, because the scent isn't as strong?" Jaebum asks. He has to admit, he hadn't really concerned himself with omega biology before he presented, and after he presented — well, he never really wanted to think too deeply about it.

"That, and heats with your mate instead of on your own?" Jackson clicks his tongue and makes a hand gesture that seems vaguely lewd. "The _best_ thing."

Jaebum can't help himself; he feels his face twist into an expression of disgust.

Jackson laughs. "I guess you're a pretty late bloomer, though. Have you even been through a heat cycle on your own?"

Hot shame floods Jaebum's cheeks at the fact that someone he's met only minutes ago feels entitled to talk to him about something like this. Hell, Jaebum still feels sick whenever he remembers how wet he'd gotten when he'd been with Jieun, and that hadn't even been heat. The idea of not just the slick pouring out of his body, but his mind giving in to a fog of lust, desire taking over him until he's not himself anymore, until he's nothing but a hole begging to be filled —

Jaebum feels sick at the thought.

"I'm going to take that as a no," Jackson says. His tone is light, but when Jaebum meets his eyes again, Jackson looks concerned. "It's okay, it's not abnormal or anything. It takes a while to get regular and all that. It'll come eventually."

I don't _want_ it to be regular, Jaebum thinks. He can't deny that he's holding out hope that...maybe it's all been a fluke. Maybe his nose and his body have been lying, maybe it's been some sort of weird fever-flu-plague thing that's gotten him under the weather, and everyone will realize he's not actually an omega and he can go back to his life in Solune like nothing happened.

A heat, though. _Regular_ heats. There isn't a damn thing Jaebum can do to dispute that.

"Seriously, being bonded is really nice," Jackson says softly. Jaebum feels an arm settle around him, a hand rubbing soothing circles into the back of his shoulders. "Once you go through with it, you feel...grounded, you know? Like you know where true North is. And man, there's nothing quite like having your mate touch your bond bite. Immediate anxiety relief, man, I can't think of anything that feels better than — "

"Wait, stop." Jaebum's mind catches up with what Jackson is saying. "Bond bite?"

"Yeah?" Jackson says, sounding confused as to why Jaebum is even asking. "You know, consummation of the bond and all that."

"Consummation," Jaebum repeats hollowly. He hasn't even come to terms with how he's going to be expected to have sex in light of his status. Now, consummation takes on a different, more sinister meaning. "Do you have...?"

He trails off, but Jackson catches his drift. "Yeah, of course. I guess you can't see it here because the shelves block the light, but come here." Jackson takes Jaebum's hand and drags him toward the chairs overlooked by high windows. He tilts his head, and for a second, Jaebum doesn't know what he's supposed to be looking at; but once he realizes what he's seeing, he doesn't understand how he ever could have missed it.

There's a scar across the skin that joins Jackson's neck to his shoulder, shaped in a jagged circle. It's clearly healed over, but it still horrifies Jaebum — the silvery tissue is raised and it looks mangled and twisted. It looks like the time one of the pages back home had gotten bitten by one of the hunting hounds, Jaebum thinks. It looks painful.

"Isn't it pretty?" Jackson asks, and it takes a second for Jaebum to place the tone — Jackson is _bragging._

Revulsion rises in the back of Jaebum's throat. Jackson is _proud_ of this, of being chewed up and spit out, marked by an alpha in a place that's easy for all to see.

"Pretty?" Jaebum asks lowly. "What do you mean?"

Jackson laughs, not a bit self-conscious. "I mean...pretty? Is there anything else it can mean?" He runs his fingers over his bite, humming happily. "It's nice. Better than a ring, if you ask me."

"He _scarred_ you," Jaebum says. "Where anyone could see — "

"I asked for it here."

"What?" Jaebum finally drags his eyes away from the bite mark to look at Jackson's face.

Jackson's chin is tilted up, and he's not smiling anymore. He looks defiant. He doesn't look like the sort of person who would let someone rip a hole in his body as a mark of ownership. "I asked for it here," he repeats. "And I asked for him to do it like this."

"Why?" Jaebum asks, his voice cracking. "Why would you — "

"Because I wanted it." Jackson looks at him and there's...pity. It's always pity when people are looking at Jaebum, but right now he can't comprehend _why._ If anyone should be receiving pity, it's the one with the scar marring his skin. "I don't really get why that's hard for you to understand."

"It's — you didn't have to do it in front of anyone, right?" The only thing Jaebum can think of that's worse than being marked by an alpha is having to endure it in front of others.

Jackson looks at him like he's speaking in tongues. "Of course not. We're not barbarians."

Jaebum swallows down the cutting remark that rises to his lips.

"It's a deeply personal thing," Jackson continues. "I mean, they're not going to ask you to have sex in front of everyone." He pulls a face. "Please, god, even if Jinyoung asks, never expose me to watching him fuck. I like to pretend he doesn't have anything down there. It makes my life more peaceful."

That's not far off from Jaebum's tactic of dealing with things, if he's honest with himself. He's known that Jinyoung is an alpha and that they're going to be bonded and married, but now the reality of it is crashing over him. They're going to be expected to do what alphas and omegas do — bonding bites, heat sex, _claiming._ Animalistic things that Jaebum has never imagined being on the receiving end of before.

It makes his stomach twist up into knots.

"I think I'm going to go...walk in the gardens for a while," Jaebum hears himself say, only distantly aware of his own lips moving.

"Yeah," Jackson replies, looking at Jaebum curiously. It makes Jaebum feel odd, like he's a puzzle piece that isn't slotting into place. "You want to be left alone?"

Jaebum nods. He barely registers Jackson clasping his shoulder as he walks past him for the door of the library, leaving Jaebum alone with the silent shelves and his racing thoughts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the days following his conversation with Jackson, Jaebum dives even more desperately into escape through books. He devours volume after volume, trying to shove other people's words into his brain so his own thoughts have no room to manifest. He loses himself in a whirlwind of text, so forcefully pushing the real world away that it takes him a few days to notice. Once he does, though, he can't shake it.

He's being watched.

He can't quite pin down how he can tell — a prickle on the back of his neck, the whisper of air shifting in the next aisle over, or maybe just animal instinct. Either way, he can feel it, and it makes anxiety curl in his stomach, just waiting to be set off.

On the fourth day of being watched, it escalates. Jaebum has started moving faster in the library, finding a book quickly and leaving instead of lingering. Irritation seeps through the worry; of course, as soon as he finds a space of his own, someone decides to intrude and snatch it away from him. Then again, isn't that just the theme of Jaebum's life anymore?

Today, though, when he leaves the library to return to his room, he hears footsteps on the stairs behind him. He doesn't know if he would have noticed if he wasn't already so on edge, but it's undeniably there — the soft pad of footsteps behind him on the spiral staircase, hardly half a beat off from his own.

Jaebum can feel his heart jump into his throat, pounding so hard it makes him feel sick. He picks up his pace as much as he can without breaking into a full run, fleeing down the corridor and fumbling with the door to his room.

It's only a few seconds after he's closed the door behind him that he hears a knock.

Well, he thinks, at least they're putting up a front of pretending to respect his privacy.

He stalks to the door and yanks it open, a few choice words on the tip of his tongue, only to come face-to-face with Jinyoung.

"Jaebum," he says, sounding surprised, as if he hadn't expected Jaebum to open his door at all. However, his expression smooths over quickly, expertly, falling into a dignified, inoffensive smile that's far too reminiscent of Hakyeon for Jaebum's comfort. "How are you?"

Jaebum eyes him suspiciously. "I've been better," he says shortly. "Are you following me?"

Jinyoung blinks as he processes Jaebum's words. "Not following, exactly."

Jaebum snorts. "Well, then, how _exactly_ would you describe it?"

"I — " Jinyoung looks around the corridor. "May I come in? You've met Yugyeom and Bambam, you know how the servants gossip."

Jaebum narrows his eyes. This could all be a ruse designed to get him alone where no one can help him. After all, can he really trust an alpha who's been tailing him for days without speaking to him even once?

But Jinyoung does have a point. Especially after hearing how candid Yugyeom and Bambam had been when they'd only just met Jaebum, he can't deny that the disregard for formality in the castle lends itself to loose-lipped help. So Jaebum steps aside, holding the door open so Jinyoung can enter before closing it behind him.

It hits Jaebum how bizarre this situation is when he's standing there in his bedroom facing Jinyoung, a thick silence hanging in the air between them. His own family wouldn’t let him be alone with his childhood friend of over a decade, and now he’s being faced with an unbonded alpha alone (even if it is the alpha he’s going to be bonded to sooner than he’d like to remember). Everything about his time in Cerisale is giving him whiplash. Everything here is all _wrong._

“I noticed that some of my books were going missing,” Jinyoung starts quietly. Now that Jaebum's let him into his quarters, he seems shier than before, if anything. He's looking at his hands, folded carefully at his front, stately in appearance except for the fact that his nails are ragged as if he's been chewing at them. “And then I saw you in the library and thought — ”

“You thought you’d follow me to my quarters? Alone?” Anxiety thrums through Jaebum’s veins, sharp and painful. "You must know how that comes off."

Jinyoung looks up at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"An alpha following an omega into their quarters and asking for an audience alone." Jaebum tries to smile, but it feels wrong and sharp on his face. "No wonder you were worried about people talking."

Jinyoung blinks before the corners of his mouth start to turn down into a frown. "Is that really what you think of me?"

"I don't know," Jaebum says, and he hates how small his voice sounds. "I haven't known what to think at all since I came here."

"Jaebum...." Jinyoung sighs. Jaebum hates how soft his name sounds on those full lips. “It’s...complicated, isn’t it?"

"Is it?" Jaebum asks. Complicated has never been a word that has come to mind to describe this whole ordeal, and Jaebum has thought of quite a few. “I mean, from what I can tell, this whole deal has been cut and dried for longer than I’ve even been aware of it. Although," he says with a hollow laugh, "things seem pretty different on this side of it all.”

Silence takes over the room. Neither Jaebum nor Jinyoung looks away from the other.

It's Jinyoung who finally breaks the quiet. "I will say that I wasn't surprised at the prospect of an arranged marriage." He lets out a small laugh, just a light huff of air and the barest hint of voice. "Not all of us can be Mark and Jackson, I guess."

The reminder of the other omega, how happily he paraded around his mark, his _servitude,_ makes Jaebum's lip curl in disgust.

"So, they're the model relationship around here?" he asks, hardly trying to conceal his disdain.

Jinyoung's eyes sharpen for the first time with something that Jaebum hasn't seen. It isn't the cleverness that he's also seen from Hakyeon, nor is it the calculating look that Jaebum seems to have a talent for drawing out of him. This is something entirely new, but Jaebum knows what it is immediately, instinct informing his conscious mind — it’s the protectiveness an alpha holds over their family and loved ones.

Clearly, Jaebum is not a member of that group yet, if the way Jinyoung is glaring at him is any indication.

"Do you have a problem with them?" Jinyoung asks. His voice doesn't give away anything, still as smooth and sweet as honey, but Jaebum can feel danger crackling in the air.

"Not personally," Jaebum says, fighting his urge to bow his head and apologize.

"But?" Jinyoung demands.

"The bite," Jaebum replies. "I — Jackson showed me."

"Oh." Jinyoung visibly relaxes. "Jackson shows everyone. He and Mark have some weird thing going on. You should've seen the marks Jackson used to have on him before they got officially bonded." He pulls a face. "Jackson basically walked around looking like he got mauled by a wild animal."

"Didn't he?" Jaebum asks, not sure if he's serious or joking.

Jinyoung lips press into a line. "No," he says. "He didn't."

"Well," Jaebum says. "If you were hoping to get something similar to what Mark's gotten, I'm going to have to disappoint you."

Even though Jinyoung wasn't moving before, there's a stillness to him now that Jaebum's brain translates to _danger, danger, danger._ "I'm sorry?"

"What else could you want?" Jaebum isn’t sure why the words are spilling out of him, dry and bitter and rough around the edges; but it feels like letting a wound, like a purging, and he can’t stop. "Cornering an omega in his quarters? What else am I supposed to think of you?"

Hurt flashes across Jinyoung's face for a second, and Jaebum is savagely pleased to have landed a blow. He may have to give up the rest of his life to this alpha, but at least — at least, he can have his few words now. Even if when they get married, the bond bite turns him into a mindless, happy fucktoy, he'll have had his moment here and now.

"Well," Jinyoung says, and now he's all edges, sharp and sleek like something Jaebum would find in the armory. “I promise I won’t lay a hand on you.” He bares his teeth in a smile that ends up feeling like a snarl. “Not even if you ask for it.”

"Excuse me?" Jaebum feels his temper spike. “What makes you think I would ask you?”

"I never said you would," Jinyoung says, smooth as silk with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

"I wouldn't," Jaebum insists, anger prickling hotly at the base of his neck. "You don't know a damn thing about what I do and don't want."

"I didn't say that I did," Jinyoung shoots back. "I was just making a point. It had nothing to do with what I thought you might actually want."

Jaebum laughs and it sounds harsh and ugly, even to his own ears. “Yeah, that seems to be how things are going for me lately."

Distantly, he's aware that he's probably going too far. Sure, Jinyoung might have said he wouldn't lay a hand on Jaebum, but they've only known each other for a matter of days and met twice; how can Jaebum trust him? And the mistrust goes deeper than that, curling insidiously in Jaebum's mind. If anything happens, if it comes down to Jinyoung’s word against Jaebum’s, how can he have any hope? A newcomer to the castle, a foreigner, an omega...the odds are against him.

“What do you mean?” Jinyoung asks, voice low and dangerous.

“I mean I never asked for any of this.” Now that the words are coming, they feel like a flood, like something inevitable and unstoppable, and all Jaebum can do is hold on for dear life until they pass. “I never asked to — to present as an omega, to be shipped off just so I’d stop being a problem, and I sure as hell never asked to be married to a — a — ”

“A what?” Jinyoung presses, his pretty features hardening with anger as he takes a step forward into Jaebum’s space.

“An alpha prince who has no damn clue what it’s like for an omega, who can joke about laying hands on them like it isn't something that keeps omegas up at night from fear,” Jaebum hisses, but as he draws in a breath a scent hits him, so strong it almost makes him stagger back if it weren’t for the fact that he wants to get closer.

It’s the smell from his first night in Cerisale. That warm scent, the one that made Jaebum think of sweets and home and freedom.

It dawns on him, and he fights the urge to reel back in disgust.

The scent is Jinyoung. The scent that Jaebum had almost unconsciously followed, the scent that had nearly drawn him up to what must be the alpha’s private quarters — it’s right here, and Jaebum hates himself for how some primal part of him wants it even when his conscious self can’t imagine wanting Jinyoung less than he does right now.

“Stop that,” Jaebum chokes out, bringing his sleeve up to his face. “You can’t — that’s not fair.”

Jinyoung frowns, and he’s either a hell of an actor or he’s genuinely confused. “Stop what?” He takes a step back away from Jaebum. “Getting closer? I told you I wouldn’t touch you. I’ll give you my word, if that’s what you want.” He snorts, but he doesn’t sound amused at all. “Then again, you don’t seem to believe my word holds much weight, do you?”

Jaebum swallows hard. Now that Jinyoung has stepped back, the scent is less overpowering, but his mind still feels distracted and on edge. “How can I believe anything when I don’t even know you?”

Jinyoung lets out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s — I didn’t ask for this either, you know?”

“You get to stay in your own home, at least,” Jaebum says bitterly. “You get to keep your family with you, you get to keep your title — ”

“Right, my title as the youngest son of four,” Jinyoung says sarcastically. “How lucky for me. Oh, and I get the absolute _joy_ " — Sarcasm drips off every word that passes his lips. — "of knowing that I get to spend the rest of my life with someone who's determined to hate me even when I've done nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong?" Jaebum asks incredulously. "You stalked me through the library and to my room — "

"To talk to you," Jinyoung says exasperatedly. "Because you don't talk to any of us unless we force the issue."

"Well, maybe you should stop trying," Jaebum says petulantly. From the way Jinyoung is looking at him, exasperated and distasteful, Jaebum is aware he probably sounds childish, but...he’s exhausted. He’s tired in a bone-deep way that makes his mind feel frayed and paranoid; and the way this family talks to him, like he should know all their customs and expectations, like he should give them his trust when he couldn’t trust his own blood or even his own _body_ — it makes him feel trapped and stupid and alone. “Maybe — “ His voice cracks. “Maybe I just want to be left in peace.”

"That's how you plan to spend the rest of your life here in Cerisale?" Jinyoung snaps. "You think that isolating yourself is going to make you happy?”

“Oh, should I just roll over and bare my neck to you instead?” Jaebum demands. “Spread my legs for you like a good omega? You think that’ll make me happy instead?”

“You — ” Jinyoung cuts himself off with an incredulous noise. “You are something else. You really are.”

Triumph rings through Jaebum’s chest. He _is_ something else. He’s not going to be easy. He’s not going to be broken.

“Well then,” Jinyoung says with an imperious nod, his soft features schooled into a hard expression. “I suppose all I came here to say was to return the books when you’re done with them. And the wedding date’s been set for three weeks from tomorrow.”

He doesn’t give Jaebum a chance to respond before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. The door shuts with a decisive _thud_ behind him. Jaebum can’t do anything but stare at the carefully polished wood even once Jinyoung is long gone.

Three weeks, Jaebum thinks, the adrenaline that had driven him through his conversation with Jinyoung running its course and leaving him feeling cold and shaky. He gets less than a month of freedom, if he can even call it that. Less than a month to prepare himself for everything — a wedding, a bond bite, a lifetime with Jinyoung.

And he may have just made all of that incredibly difficult for himself just because he thought he had something to prove.

He exhales slowly, trying to keep his breath as steady as possible as he drags his feet over to the bed and sits down on it heavily. His head drops into his hands. Three weeks, his mind repeats over and over again. Just three weeks.

With trembling hands, he reaches for the jug of water he keeps on his nightstand, pouring it into his cupped palm and ignoring what spills over onto his pants. He splashes the cold water over his face, but it does nothing but drench the hair around his face and splatter down his front; his mind is still racing and his body feels like it has a low, unnatural hum pulsing through it.

He remembers Hakyeon’s words. _I think our whole family likes you, or at least has the potential to._

Well, Jaebum thinks as a mirthless smile twists his face, there goes that statement out the window.

And now he’s going to have to live with the consequences.

 

 

* * *

 

 

If Jaebum had been hard to track down before, now he becomes practically reclusive. He keeps odd hours to avoid running into anyone in the corridors. He enlists the help of Yugyeom and Bambam, eager as always, having them bring plates of food to his quarters so he doesn't have to venture outside.

But the boys still have to sleep, and Jaebum is becoming something close to nocturnal. By the time a week has passed since his…confrontation with Jinyoung, Jaebum is largely asleep while the sun is up and doesn't feel hungry until Yugyeom and Bambam are passed out in their own quarters. So, with trepidation and a growling stomach, Jaebum finds his way down to the kitchens again, uncannily reminiscent of his first night in Cerisale. This time, hopefully, he'll be able to avoid any unwanted conversations with wandering princes.

He has half a loaf of bread clutched between his teeth and a sausage in each hand when he hears the clatter and rustle of something or someone moving to his right. He freezes. If someone sees him now, there's not really anything he can do — he's been caught red-handed.

He slowly scans the kitchen at eye level, looking for anyone hiding behind a shelf or around a corner. There's another hushed noise that draw his attention and his eyes drop to the floor.

He can feel a stupid grin spread across his face.

“Hey, there, beautiful,” he murmurs after placing his food on a table. He kneels, holding out a hand.

The cat that's stepped into his field of vision meows loudly, her sharp little teeth bared. He feels his heart give an almost painful squeeze.

He reaches for the sausage he'd set down and tears off a piece, offering it to her. She walks toward him carefully, and he feels himself melting at how she daintily picks her paws off the floor.

“Hey, princess,” he whispers as she finally reaches him and sniffs at the proffered food. Deciding it isn't too offensive to eat, she snaps it up, licking at the tips of Jaebum’s fingers. His face hurts from smiling. “There you go.”

He continues feeding her bits of sausage, ending up lying on the cold stone floor next to her. He lays out the cloak Yugyeom and Bambam brought him so they can both lie on it. The thick fur lining takes the edge off the bitter cold; if that weren't enough, once he feeds her more than he probably should have, she curls against his side, a purring little bundle of warmth.

Jaebum wakes up several hours later to several curious kitchen staff staring at the eldest prince of Solune sleeping on the kitchen floor.

The cat becomes what Jaebum looks forward to every night, waking up with the knowledge that he'll see her again. He's careful not to repeat the first night — from the snickers he heard coming from Yugyeom and Bambam for the few days after that, he'd become a popular topic of conversation among the servants — but he always stays with her as long as he dares.

He names her Nora, after one of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little, which he then told to Youngjae in turn. Really, he could probably call her anything, as long as he kept feeding her; but he likes to imagine that she responds to the name itself, that she knows he gave it to her.

She fills a void in Jaebum’s life that he hasn't realized he was missing — the warmth of touch, the closeness of another living being.

He's lonely. The thought passes unbidden through his mind as he brushed his fingers through her fur one night, but he pushes it roughly away. This is the safest way for him to be right now. These are his last moments of freedom, and he's not about to spend them pining for human contact.

Nora is enough, he tells himself. This is enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's halfway through the second week when he first sees Nora during the daytime.

“Here.” Bambam plops her down on Jaebum’s bed unceremoniously, far earlier than Jaebum is accustomed to being awake.

Her squeak of disapproval drags Jaebum out of sleep and he glares at Bambam through one swollen eye. "What?” he croaks.

“Keep her,” Bambam says, sounding disgruntled.

“But doesn't she live in the kitchens?” Jaebum asks even as he strokes her back and down her tail, letting it curl around his fingers. At the prospect of getting to keep her, he feels hope leap up in his chest, warm and light for the first time in a long time.

“She did,” Bambam explains. “Because her job was to catch rats. But now she won't eat anything but human food.” He gives Jaebum a baleful look.

“Ah.” Jaebum tries to look appropriately remorseful. “That's…unfortunate.”

“Don't pretend you're not thrilled about this,” Bambam grumbles. "She used to be a lean, mean, pest-hunting machine, and now look at her. She's fat.”

“Don't talk about a lady like that,” Jaebum says indignantly. "She's just the right weight.” Looking at her, he has to admit she's gained weight and has a little paunch around her belly. Still, he insists to Bambam, “She looks better like this.”

“Whatever.” Bambam rolls his eyes, and Jaebum wonders if all the staff are like this or if he just got saddled with the two most insubordinate servants to grace Cerisale’s grounds. “She's your problem now. And speaking of weight, I'm supposed to tell you — ”

Jaebum bristles. “Excuse me?”

“Calm down, hyung,” Bambam says and Jaebum feels his whole body freeze at the honorific. He hasn't been called that since the last time he saw Youngjae. “It's just about getting your clothes fitted for the wedding, since it's so soon and all.”

Reality crashes back over Jaebum. He can't deny that he's been running from it, using the distant surreality of nighttime to keep it at bay.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says numbly. "I can — whenever you need me, I'll just…be ready, I guess.”

Bambam beams at him, so blissfully ignorant of the conflict going on inside of Jaebum that the prince envies him. "I'll take you now, then? Since you're actually awake during daylight hours for once.”

“Right.” Of course, that would be the logical conclusion to draw from Bambam’s words; but Jaebum’s brain feels sluggish, like his thoughts are being dragged through molasses. “Could you give me just a minute to get ready?”

“Sure thing,” Bambam says agreeably. “I'll be right outside.”

Once he's left alone again, Jaebum lies back on the bed and rubs his face, groaning.  
“Do you think I could escape out the window?” he asks Nora.

She meows plaintively at him and begins grooming herself. _What good are you to me,_ she seems to be asking, _if you're not feeding or petting me?_

Then again, Jaebum might just be projecting his thoughts onto a cat who just wants to clean itself. It's a slightly worrying turn of events.

“You're right,” he mutters to himself. “It's too cold for an out-the-window approach.”

She continues licking at her side, ignoring him.

“Well, Nora," he says, standing from the bed and reaching for more proper clothing than his sleep shirt. "As always, the only way out is through. Thanks for your guidance.”

She lets out a small chirp of surprise when he gives her a final pet before he leaves.

“You're the only one I can trust,” he says to her. He shoots for a playful tone, but it falls flat, making him wince.

He sighs, trying not to let his mind linger on the sad state of affairs his life has become.

“The only way out is through,” he repeats to himself, so quiet that he's hardly doing anything more than mouthing the words.

And with this in mind, he steps out of his quarters and into the day.

 

 

* * *

  

 

Clothes fitting, at least, is something that doesn't seem too vastly different between Solune and Cerisale.

Bambam keeps him company. It's not something Jaebum thought he would appreciate; constant chatter usually stresses him out and makes him eventually snap in irritation. It's easier, though, when he realizes that Bambam isn't really expecting him to listen. Bambam talks to fill space, and with how much Jaebum has hated being left alone with his thoughts lately, Bambam's stream-of-consciousness prattling is surprisingly welcome.

“I love weddings, don't you, hyung? And they just keep getting better! You're totally going to be able to rub this in Mark’s face. Actually, that might not be a good idea, because this one time I made fun of his height and then I woke up the next morning with — ”

“Oh, wow, you do actually have a body under all the baggy layers you wear. Yugyeom and I had a bet going over whether or not you were hiding an extra limb or something. Like maybe a third leg. Wait, that sounds wrong — ”

“Why this shade of orange, hyung? I mean, you look fine in it because you're so pale, but someone a little more sun-kissed like me would look like a mess. Why are you so pale, anyway, hyung? Isn't it like permanently summer there? How did Solune land on this shade, like at least Cerisale has a pastel _option —_ ”

“Oh, hyung. Oh, wow. Never mind, I understand why this shade of orange. Wow.”

At this final observation, Bambam grabs Jaebum out of the tailor’s grasp, who seems very happy to be done with the pair of them.

“Look at you,” Bambam says in awe as he stands Jaebum in front of a mirror.

Jaebum takes in his reflection and is struck by a sense of uncanniness. Before him stands Prince Jaebum of Solune as he'd known himself for years — proudly enrobed in his kingdom’s rich orange embroidered with gold piping, the tunic fitted to emphasize his broad shoulders. All he needs is his hair swept back for him to look almost exactly as he did for every formal event before — well, before.

He looks like a stranger. When he tilts his head and his reflection responds, it feels almost wrong. It sends a shiver down his spine like he's seen a ghost.

Jaebum realizes Bambam is still chattering in his ear — he doesn't know why he would expect any different, honestly — and he forces himself to tune back in to his surroundings.

“ — such a gorgeous couple, you know? Because you're all pointy and Jinyoung’s all soft and _oh,_ I'm so excited!” the boy gushes.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says absently. He reaches up and pushes his hair out of his face, his features becoming even sharper with the emphasis. Familiar and yet distant. He feels like a liar.

Bambam gives an exaggerated gasp. “You look like a king,” he says reverently. “Or a captain. Some kind of leader, you know?”

Ah, Jaebum thinks. That's why it feels like a lie.

“Thanks,” he says out loud, dropping his hand and letting his hair fall back into his face. Softer. More suitable for an omega spouse-to-be.

He'll have to remember to style it up for the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you so so much for your comments!! y'all have been so amazing and supportive and it helps me stick with it when the writer's block comes for me lmao


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings for this chapter (and spoilers):** there isn't sex, but there is a bite that's kind of dubiously consensual (pretty much as you'd expect with an arranged marriage au that involves bond bites). there's also a bit of blood involved, but nothing graphic.

The time until the wedding passes, as time always does before something unwanted, in jagged skips and hops that leave Jaebum staring at the rising sun on the day of, wondering where his last moments of freedom had gone.

Yugyeom and Bambam help him get ready, bringing the luxurious clothing that Jaebum had been fitted for. Bambam is as thrilled as the first time, and while Yugyeom rolls his eyes and snipes at his friend for being obnoxious, his eyes glitter with excitement as he watches Jaebum smooth the fabric down his front before checking his appearance in the mirror.

It hits him again, as he takes in his reflection, how the image before him is at once familiar and distant. Kingdoms away from here. A lifetime away too, it feels. Still, it's something that he can grasp onto, a truth or something like it in a world turned on its head.

Even if, as he looks at the person he always was, it feels like he's wearing someone else’s skin.

One last time, he thinks. One last time to play himself.

There's a quiet knock on the door, but Jaebum pays it no mind, leaving it to Yugyeom to rush to answer it.

"You look very nice," comes a familiar voice, and Jaebum almost elbows Bambam in the nose in his haste to turn and face Jinyoung.

"Thank you," Jaebum says stiffly. "You do too."

He isn't lying. Jinyoung wears thick silk like he was born for it — and he was, Jaebum reminds himself. Then again, not every royal Jaebum knows pulls it off quite like Jinyoung does. His robe is deep red, the silk beautifully woven so it catches the light with an almost metallic sheen. It makes Jinyoung look otherworldly, like a spirit that Jaebum would read stories about to Youngjae. He wonders if Jinyoung would've been one of the spirits whose stories always ended with a warning, a walking cautionary tale.

Jinyoung gives him a hesitant smile, which is the last thing Jaebum expected after how they parted ways. He looks younger. He doesn't look like the man who had followed Jaebum to his quarters alone or made the air around him crackle with danger.

He looks like a boy. He looks not so different from Jaebum, really.

Guilt tries to rise in Jaebum's chest, but he shoves it down mercilessly. He can deal with that later.

"Today's the day," Jinyoung says, as if they aren't perfectly aware of why they're standing there in their formal dress. "Are you...ready?"

I don't think I'd be ready if you gave me a lifetime to prepare, Jaebum wants to say, but he doesn't think starting off a round of fisticuffs is exactly part of the pre-wedding ritual. Then again, maybe that's just another one of those odd Cerisale things. A nice splash of crimson to match Jinyoung's robes.

Jaebum bites his tongue and shrugs. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

Jinyoung laughs quietly even though it wasn't really all that funny. "I thought I was," he confesses. "But now I'm not really sure. It's different when you're facing it head-on, isn't it?"

Jaebum blinks rapidly. He doesn't know what to do with this information. Hell, he thinks with a touch of regret, he doesn't know what he did to _deserve_ this information. There's a part of his brain, still honed sharp from years of his father telling him that a king always has to watch his back, a part that says it's a ruse; that instead of trying to tear Jaebum's walls down by force, Jinyoung is trying to wear away at them slowly and carefully so Jaebum won't notice.

But there's a smaller, quieter part of his mind, one that feels fragile and faltering like a calf on new legs, one that thinks...maybe Jaebum isn't being fair.

He has more important things to worry about right now than this, though. Regardless of Jinyoung's intentions, whether he's manipulative and cruel or sweet and naive or maybe somewhere in between, Jaebum is about to marry him. It has nothing to do with Jinyoung's true intentions.

There's a quiet cough. "We're just...going to go, then," Yugyeom says slowly, grabbing Bambam by the elbow and dragging him toward the door even as the smaller boy hisses complaints at him that he thinks the princes can't hear.

"Wait," Jinyoung says. Even though his voice isn't loud, it carries a weight of command that is less about his birth and more about his nature. It makes the servants stop dead in their tracks. Jinyoung fixes Jaebum with a questioning look, raising an eyebrow. "Is that all right with you?"

"Is — is what all right with me?" Jaebum asks.

"Them leaving," Jinyoung clarifies. He bites his lower lip. "Last time, you didn't want to be alone with me. I don't want to make you — I just thought I should ask you what you want."

Every smart comment flies out of Jaebum's mind and he ends up staring at Jinyoung dumbly, tongue feeling clumsy as he says, "It doesn't matter — "

"Yes, it does," Jinyoung cuts in, sounding tired. "It matters."

Jaebum almost swallows his tongue as he nods in acquiescence.

There's a beat of tense silence, the two servants still frozen as Jinyoung and Jaebum both wait for the other to answer.

"I'm sorry," Jinyoung says awkwardly.

"For what?" Jaebum asks.

"For interrupting you." Jinyoung laughs quietly. "It kind of undercut my point about what you want mattering, didn't it? So I'm sorry."

"Okay," Jaebum replies, not sure what else to say. "And it's — it's okay if they leave, I guess."

"Thank you," Jinyoung says. Jaebum wants to ask why.

Once they're alone, the air feels thicker, the quiet more oppressive without the rustle of Bambam fidgeting with the fabric of Jaebum's clothing.

"I'm sorry for other things too," Jinyoung offers. "For following you. I didn't realize that you were — that I would make you feel threatened."

"How could you not realize?" Jaebum asks, but it's not tinged with anger the way his words to Jinyoung had been the last time they spoke. Instead, there's an edge of desperation — _What do I have to do? What am I supposed to do?_

"I'm not used to being someone people think of as a threat," Jinyoung says. "I — I always have to work harder to be taken seriously. Growing up in Hakyeon's shadow — I always just assume that people see me as a child or a pretty face."

"But you're so — " Jaebum struggles for the words to describe the boy, the man before him. "Sharp."

Jinyoung smiles then, pleased, and it's the first time Jaebum's seen Jinyoung's genuine smile since that initial meeting. The corners of his eyes crinkle and Jaebum swallows hard at the sight.

"Years of work," Jinyoung confides. "You get called cute one too many times and then you end up with this." He gestures at himself, and Jaebum has to admit that he cuts an impressive figure.

Then he thinks of Jinyoung's smile. "Don't you still get called cute?" Jaebum asks unthinkingly.

Jinyoung frowns. "Well — yes. But still, I like to think I look like less of a pushover, at least."

"I don't think pushover is an impression you give off, no," Jaebum says.

"Good," Jinyoung says. "I wouldn't want my future spouse to think I was an easy target, after all."

Future spouse. Jaebum feels his face fall. Right. Here he'd thought earlier in their conversation that he couldn't forget what they were here for, and now a conversation with Jinyoung of all people has distracted him this thoroughly.

Trying to keep the mood light despite the anxiety gripping his heart, Jaebum says, "Speaking of, isn't it bad luck for you to see your bride before the wedding?"

"Bad...luck?" Jinyoung blinks at him in confusion. "And what do you mean, 'bride?'"

"It's — it's a tradition," Jaebum says. He's never had to explain this before; it was something just taken as fact in Solune. "You know, the groom isn't supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding, because it's bad luck."

"But you're wearing a tunic and trousers," Jinyoung says. "And you're a groom, too. Unless I'm mistaken, in which case I apologize for that too — "

"I — no, no," Jaebum says hastily. "Definitely a groom. I was just...joking, you know."

"I didn't think you knew how to joke," Jinyoung says drily, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. "I rather thought yelling was your main mode of communication."

"I haven't had much of a chance to joke in a while," Jaebum says, perhaps a bit too truthfully.

The smile falls from Jinyoung's lips as he looks at Jaebum thoughtfully. "No," he muses. "I — I suppose you haven't."

Jaebum stands there, feeling the weight of Jinyoung's contemplative gaze as if it's a physical touch, and he tries not to shiver. He doesn't know what to say to break the tension. He doesn't even know where it _came_ from, if he's honest with himself. One second, they'd been joking about Jinyoung's supposed cuteness and now here he is with Jinyoung looking at him in a manner that definitely isn't cute, but Jaebum has no idea how to categorize it.

They both nearly jump out of their skin when there's the rap of knuckles on the door.

"Are you decent?" Bambam's voice calls through the door.

"Of course they're decent," comes Yugyeom's voice, less muffled than the boy probably realizes. "They're getting ready for a wedding, idiot."

Jaebum hears Jinyoung give a long, drawn-out sigh, and he looks at his fiancé to see him pinching the bridge of his nose and tilting his head back as if asking the heavens for patience. He feels something bubble up inside him — a laugh, he realizes. Jinyoung almost made him laugh.

He doesn't have time to process that, though, as Bambam falls through the doorway rather like he's been pushed. Judging by the glare he pins Yugyeom with, he probably was.

“It’s time, I assume?” Jinyoung asks before the boys can begin babbling. When they nod, Jinyoung turns to Jaebum. “Ready?” He chuckles, but it doesn't sound particularly humorous. “Or should I say, ready to walk down there, at least?”

Jaebum hesitates for a moment, wondering if he’s getting too caught up in something trivial before he thinks again — one last time. “Hold on for just a second.”

Even as Jinyoung agrees to wait, Jaebum jogs over to the vanity. He picks up a jar of grease, swiping up a bit of its contents with his fingertips and working it through his hair to sweep his fringe up off his face. When he looks in the mirror, it’s like he can feel a second skin settling over him.

He ignores how unnatural it feels, how the memories it conjures up are starting to feel rotten and sour around the edges.

When he turns to face the others, Yugyeom and Bambam practically fall over themselves to praise him.

“I _told_ you he looked like a captain or something with his hair up,” Bambam says to Yugyeom.

Yugyeom shakes his head. “No, he looks like one of those soldiers that’s so pretty that all the girls run off with him even if he’s dirt poor.”

“Are you crazy?” Bambam wrinkles his nose. “You’ve been reading those trashy romance stories again, haven’t you? He obviously looks like — ”

“A prince,” Jinyoung interjects. “And nothing less.” He nods toward the door, but his eyes are fixed on Jaebum with an intensity that seems like it should burn. “Shall we?”

Jaebum half expects Jinyoung to offer his arm like Hakyeon on his first night, but he simply gestures for Jaebum to walk beside him.

Jaebum has hardly left his quarters since his unfortunate introduction to Jinyoung, and he hasn't strayed from the path he's worn from his room to the library and back again. As such, he hasn't seen the way the castle has transformed in preparation for the wedding. There are still tapestries blanketing the walls in rich color, but now there are also banners strung from the ceiling, swooping down in great swathes of red and, notably, the same rich orange as Jaebum's tunic.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Jinyoung asks. "Hakyeon almost threw a fit about the colors clashing, but I think they match all right."

With the way the torches and fireplaces cast flickering warm light over the red and orange, Jaebum thinks it looks rather like the castle is burning, but it's not entirely unwelcome in contrast with the bitter cold outside.

"It's nice," Jaebum settles on saying. It could definitely be worse.

They continue toward the entrance hall and Jaebum notices that instead of heading for the extravagant carved double doors that he assumes lead to where the wedding will be held, Jinyoung is walking toward a smaller set of doors off to the side.

Suspicion flares up in Jaebum's gut, but before he can voice his concerns, Jinyoung is explaining, "We'll wait here until they come to get us for the final part of the ceremony."

It disarms Jaebum to hear Jinyoung, the way he's starting to anticipate Jaebum's misgivings. He can do nothing but nod and follow, feeling off-balance all over again but for an entirely new reason.

He finds himself in a small chamber with another door in the wall facing what must be the great hall. There are several chairs scattered around, and Jinyoung takes a seat with a sigh before gesturing at Jaebum to do the same.

Jaebum lowers himself onto the chair cautiously. He still doesn't know what to expect. He'd thought — well, he'd thought this would be like a wedding in Solune, which doesn't make much sense in hindsight.

Maybe it's just because every wedding he'd seen back home had gone a particular way, and he'd thought he'd be following those same steps — him walking down the aisle toward a waiting Jinyoung, maybe with a fatherly stand-in at his elbow. (He’s tried very hard not to think about the fact that his actual father isn’t going to be present at the wedding. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s a two-way street, or at least it can be if Jaebum tries.)

“What are we even doing?” Jaebum asks, hating how timid nerves make his voice sound.

“Didn’t Yugyeom and Bambam tell you?” Jinyoung asks, sounding aghast. “Lord, what do they even _do,_ if they’re not doing their jobs — ”

“It’s okay,” Jaebum says hastily. “Just tell me now so I don’t go up there and accidentally cause an international incident.”

Jinyoung snorts. “It’s amazing that you’ve met my parents and still think that you slipping up a little at the wedding would anger them enough to cause a diplomatic uproar.”

Jaebum shrugs, trying to ignore how any motion of his body sets his stomach to roiling with anxiety. “You can never be too careful.”

“Sure.” Jinyoung still doesn’t sound convinced, but thankfully, he lets the subject drop. “Most of the ceremony is over before we even get there. Honestly, it started even before we left your chambers.”

“That seems like a bad policy,” Jaebum says without thinking. “What if they realized they were short a prince and had gone through all that for nothing?”

The joke is probably inappropriate in the moments before they promise their lives to each other, but Jinyoung giggles. “First of all, my parents trust me a little more than to think I’d lose an entire prince. Second of all, it’s not like this is a particularly important wedding. Hakyeon and Taekwoon’s was a different story, but I’m the youngest and Solune isn’t our most important ally. So this wedding is fairly lowkey.” He gives Jaebum a smile. “Just formalities, really. Some fancy words so the head advisor can feel relevant.”

“Maybe we should just skip it, then,” Jaebum says.

“No, we shouldn’t hurt his feelings by taking away his moment of glory,” Jinyoung says, a wicked glint to his eye as he teases the poor advisor. At least he isn’t around to hear it. “And it’ll be over before you know it, anyway.”

“Really?” Jaebum asks doubtfully. Weddings in Solune had always been lengthy affairs that he had trouble sitting through no matter how old he got.

“Really,” Jinyoung confirms. “It’s very simple. We walk down the aisle together with our respective bouquets, say ‘I do’ to our vows, and then we exchange bouquets as a symbol of entrusting ourselves to each other and all that. Is that clear enough?”

 _Entrusting ourselves to each other._ It’s a bit early into their knowing each other for that, if you ask Jaebum, but it’s a bit early for them to get married by any normal standard.

So Jaebum tries to shove the critical voice in the back of his mind down and says, "Clear as crystal."

He thinks Jinyoung is about to smile, or maybe even laugh; but then the door to the great hall creaks open, and a guard clad in red bows his head to them before stepping aside to free the entryway.

They're standing, Jaebum realizes. God, his brain is doing that thing again, where it seems to sense his unwillingness to be here and splits from his body. It leaves him feeling like he’s floundering, carried away on waves of time that he has no control over.

They're standing and stepping through the door and out into a bright hall, and oh, there are people lined up in what Jaebum would call pews, but do they call them pews outside of churches? Or is this a chapel and Jaebum hadn't even realized it? He can't sense his feet touching the ground, and he can't tell if it's because of how far out of his body he feels or because of the plush red fabric that's been laid down leading up, up, up to the front of the hall — chapel — whatever it is —

Something is pressed into his hands, and he looks down at it, taking a few seconds to comprehend what it is. A bouquet, he registers. Orange blossoms. It should feel like having home in his grip again, but all it does is make him feel like something is horribly off, like this is a twisted parody of what he thought he wanted. They're out of season, blooming far later than they should be, and they shouldn't be this far north, in any case. They belong...far away. Anywhere but here.

His stomach feels like it's fallen down around his feet at the same time that his body feels like it's floating.

Freefall, he thinks hazily. Freefall all over again.

A word falls on his ears. It's an important one, or at least one that's dragging him out of his thoughts as it's repeated again.

" _Jaebum._ "

He blinks, finally seeing Jinyoung looking at him. There's a bouquet in Jinyoung's hands too, but one of delicate cherry blossoms.

Funny, Jaebum thinks. Those aren't in season either.

"Walk, Jaebum," Jinyoung says, and he presses a hand to the small of Jaebum's back. It should probably feel possessive to have an alpha's grip on him, guiding him, but instead it's grounding in a way that Jaebum thinks has nothing to do with Jinyoung's alpha status.

Reality begins to seep back into Jaebum's consciousness, starting from where Jinyoung's palm feels warm and firm against him. Right, those are his legs, and he can walk with them. Actually, he really _should,_ if the slowly increasing pressure from Jinyoung's hand is any indication.

As they make their way down the aisle side by side, Jaebum begins to take in more of what’s happening around him. Instead of the flickering firelight that illuminated the corridors on their way here, the great hall has towering windows that allow cold winter sunlight to stream in strong and unwavering. It's easier to breathe the more he moves, and he realizes he's walking on his own, Jinyoung's hand having dropped back to his own side.

Before he knows it, he's standing at the front of the hall. The altar, his brain supplies, if they were in a chapel. An old man in white and red he's never seen before stands in front of them, speaking in a drone that does nothing to help Jaebum bring himself back to earth. The man's words slip and melt into each other, evading Jaebum's attempts to grasp onto them, drowned out by the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

But when Jinyoung speaks, his words resonate through Jaebum's skull, his voice rich and smooth. "I do," he says, just like he'd told Jaebum he would. Was it really just moments ago in that antechamber? Or has time even passed at all? Or has the ceremony been going on around him for longer than he even realized? How long has been standing here, falling, falling, falling with no end in sight?

The distant rumble of the old man's voice resumes, and everything melts away except for Jinyoung's face. His eyes are two bright points for Jaebum to anchor himself to, his expression of open encouragement strangely tethering when Jaebum feels like he might not even exist anymore.

Jinyoung gives a very small nod to Jaebum. What is he supposed to do again? Oh, yes.

_I do._

He must say the words, lips moving on their own, because Jinyoung gives him a small smile and then is reaching for Jaebum's hands — no, he's reaching for Jaebum's bouquet, and there's a part of him that wants to clutch onto the orange blossoms and snarl _mine._ But even if that part was loud enough to control him, Jaebum's body feels oddly limp as Jinyoung tugs the flowers from his hands and replaces it with his own bouquet of blossoms.

Jaebum looks down at it numbly. Right.

Then Jinyoung reaches for him again, but this time he really does take Jaebum's hand, or something like it — he lets fingers brush against Jaebum's delicately, just the barest touch, before his hand is on the small of Jaebum's back again. It's just as grounding as the last time. Questions start to buzz in Jaebum's mind — _why is it, what is he doing, what has he already done_ — but he shoves them away.

Distantly, he can hear Jinyoung speaking, the waves of shining red silk and humming questions around them parted by Jinyoung’s sweet voice and decisive step.

Jaebum thinks that he should probably say something to the people around them. There are at least a few familiar faces among them — the brothers, the queen — but instead, he lets Jinyoung guide him back down the aisle and wherever he may lead, as long as it's away from here.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The quarters surrounding Jaebum are unfamiliar. The walls of the room are oddly curved and the light shines in at a different angle than in his own room, but the bed he’s on is downy and soft and the blankets are starting to feel real underneath his fingertips again, so he isn’t about to complain.

“Jaebum.”

He turns to see Jinyoung walking toward him. His fiancé — no, he corrects himself, his brain finally starting to get back up to speed, his _husband_ — has traded his rich red robes for a simple pink nightshirt. It should be indecent, but...well, indecency isn’t something husbands have to worry about with each other, is it?

Jinyoung sits on the edge of the bed, leaving ample room between them. His hair is wet, Jaebum notices. How long has he been lying on this bed, fading in and out of touch with reality, that Jinyoung could change and bathe?

“Do you want to wash up?” Jinyoung asks. “Before…”

“Before what?” Jaebum asks.

“Before we — ” Red flushes across Jinyoung’s cheeks. “Consummate the bond.”

“You want to have sex?” Jaebum asks, forgetting himself for a moment.

“No!” Jinyoung sputters. “No, no, just — the bite.”

And if Jaebum wasn’t already slowly coming back down to earth, then those two words bring him crashing down soundly.

“Oh,” he says hollowly. “Do we — are you sure we have to?”

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung says, sounding tired, worn thin in the same way that Jaebum’s felt since he came here.

“Maybe we could just tell people we consummated it,” Jaebum says hopefully. He doesn’t believe his own words, but he can’t give up even now. “We could just not and say we did, we can just keep up an act — ”

“Jaebum, don’t take this the wrong way — ” Jinyoung starts.

Jaebum scoffs. “Don’t keep up pretenses about not wanting to hurt my feelings.”

He can see how Jinyoung’s temper flares in the way his lips press into a line and his eyes narrow. “When will you stop assuming that every word out of my mouth is a lie?” he asks, voice low and tight. “What I was going to say is that they’ll know because your scent is...distinctive to say the least. It’s too easy to identify an unbonded omega.” He pauses for a moment. “Or an unbonded alpha. Either way, not consummating the bond isn’t an option.”

“Why does it matter so much?” Jaebum says mulishly.

“Because if we leave the bond unconsummated then they can still take you away from here,” Jinyoung says exasperatedly. “Words and legal procedures are only binding to a point. Sure, it might cause a diplomatic incident, but at the end of the day, if we’re not bonded, then we really can’t keep you here.” He stops short. “Unless...you really hate it here so much that you’d rather try somewhere else.”

Jinyoung’s words make Jaebum freeze as he remembers what he’d told the royal family of Cerisale the first time he’d met them all. _If I don’t marry him, it’ll be someone else._ Is Jinyoung really so off-putting to him that Jaebum is willing to risk getting a worse alpha just to get away from him?

“Do you hate...Cerisale that much?” Jinyoung asks, sounding hurt.

Jaebum thinks they both know Jinyoung isn’t really asking about the kingdom as a whole.

“No,” Jaebum finally manages, his voice cracking. "I don't hate — Cerisale. I just hate _this._ " He gestures down at his body. "I hate that everyone can know something about me just by smelling me, I hate that I get wet, I hate that I have to get bitten and marked and I — I just hate it, Jinyoung. All of it."

Jinyoung hesitates before asking, uncharacteristically timidly, "Why?"

"Because — " Jaebum swallows hard as he tries to distill his thoughts into words. "Everything started going wrong when I presented."

"But that's no reason to hate your body," Jinyoung says, and it makes Jaebum's temper flare.

"Oh, really?" He laughs mirthlessly. "My body is what got me in this mess. Do you know how I presented, Jinyoung?" He barely waits for Jinyoung to shake his head before barrelling on, "I was trying to fuck a girl, just a nice normal beta girl, and I dripped all over her. Because omegas aren't meant to be the ones doing the fucking, are they?" He runs his hands through his hair. They're shaking, and he feels the twinge of strands being pulled out, but he can't bring himself to care. "And then, everyone decides it's their business. Suddenly, everyone knows that the crown prince fucking leaks out of his ass when he gets it up, like some kind of bitch in heat — "

"I didn't know," Jinyoung interrupts. "Not until you told me."

"I — that's not the point," Jaebum says peevishly.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Jinyoung says, but when Jaebum looks, there isn't pity in his eyes. There's a kind of careful gentleness, but no condescension or unknowing sympathy.

"Whatever," Jaebum says brusquely. "It's not like it's something you have to apologize for anyway."

"I know," Jinyoung says. "But still."

“But still,” Jaebum mimics. “But still, this is what we have to do, isn’t it? Because omegas get fucked and marked and owned, right?”

Jinyoung makes a pained noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not — Jaebum, it’s just this bite. That’s all I’m asking.”

“All you’re asking.” Jaebum laughs, but it hurts as it leaves him, his chest feeling raw and sore like an open wound. “As if you’re not asking for too much as it is.” He hears the sharp intake of breath as Jinyoung gets ready to respond, but Jaebum doesn’t give him the chance. Instead, he roughly throws the blankets back and stands, turning his back toward Jinyoung.

“It doesn’t matter how much it is, though, does it?” Jaebum asks, his voice little more than a whisper in the quiet room. “It still has to be done.”

Jinyoung doesn’t try arguing with that. They both know he can’t.

“Jackson told me it hurts less than you’d think,” Jinyoung says quietly.

“Don’t say — don’t try to make it better,” Jaebum rasps, his throat painfully tight. “Just get it over with.”

He stands there, waiting for Jinyoung to do something. Shouldn’t some alpha part of him be pleased? A defenseless omega before him, just waiting to be marked and owned — hell, Jaebum should be irresistible to him, from what Jaebum’s been told about alphas, anyway.

But seconds stretch on into minutes, and still, Jinyoung leaves Jaebum waiting.

“Fine,” Jaebum snaps, and he reaches for the hem of his tunic, jerkily pulling it over his head and leaving him in a simple undershirt. He yanks at the cords holding the neck of it closed, baring his neck in the same place as Jackson’s bite. “Is this what you want? Take it, then. Just take it.”

“Jaebum.” Jinyoung’s voice sounds rough around the edges with emotion and Jaebum doesn’t understand why. There’s no reason for Jinyoung to be upset, after all. He’s not about to get a permanent scar to signal ownership to anyone who sees. “Jaebum, please look at me.”

With an exasperated sigh, Jaebum does as he’s asked, whipping around to face Jinyoung with a proud expression.

He falters when he sees how Jinyoung is looking at him with his lips pressed into a line and his eyes wide with worry.

“I thought — from how you reacted to Jackson, I’d expected you’d want it somewhere a little less visible,” Jinyoung says.

Jaebum blinks. “You mean, that isn’t just the way it’s done here?”

“God, no.” Jinyoung looks horrified and slightly offended. “I told you how Jackson always used to walk around with all kinds of marks even before they were bonded. That’s just how Jackson and Mark _are._ I’m not — that’s not — ” A blush stains Jinyoung’s cheeks, pink and surprisingly sweet for the alpha that’s about to irreversibly claim Jaebum. “I don’t want to do that. Even if you wanted to do that, I...wouldn’t.”

Jaebum swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “What are you playing at?” he croaks.

“Nothing,” Jinyoung says. “I’m not playing at anything, Jaebum.” He takes a tentative step forward, coming into Jaebum’s space slowly and shyly. “I — I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You have to,” Jaebum says, voice brittle. “You have to consummate the bond.”

“I’ll do it because it’s what’s safest,” Jinyoung says. “So you don’t end up with someone who won’t give you a choice of where or how, when it comes to the bite and...other things.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Jaebum mutters, but it’s lost in a gasp when he feels cold fingertips at the hem of his undershirt. He wheels around, glaring at Jinyoung accusingly. “What are you doing?”

“I want to do it somewhere that you’ll be able to hide easily,” Jinyoung explains impatiently, but he’s holding his hands up as if to show he’s not a threat. “Is the back of your shoulder all right?”

Jaebum still eyes him suspiciously. “You’re — you said you’re going to try to make it not hurt?” he asks, hating the tremor in his voice.

“Yeah.” Cold fingertips find his skin again, but this time Jaebum tries to concentrate on how soft they are instead. “I’m going to try.”

Jaebum holds his breath as Jinyoung lifts the back of his shirt — just on the one side, he notices, as if he’s trying to preserve Jaebum's modesty. He feels a hand settle against the back of his left shoulder, over the meatiest part. The warmth of Jinyoung's palm grounded him during the wedding, and it does the same now. Maybe it won't be too much, Jaebum dares to let himself think. Maybe it'll be like the wedding — easy, so long as Jaebum lets it be.

He isn't prepared, though, for the hand to be taken away and replaced with the brush of something softer.

"Like this?" Jinyoung asks, and it must be his lips against Jaebum's shoulder. He can feel the gentle puff of air from Jinyoung’s words.

Jaebum nods jerkily before realizing Jinyoung can't see the gesture with his head positioned where it is. "Yeah," he says. "That works."

"Okay. I'm — I'll do it now, then."

There's a shaky exhale against Jaebum's skin, a sharp inhale, the blunt pressure of teeth against his skin — and then the pressure grows, pushing deeper and drawing out pain, first dull and then sharp, and Jaebum hears a pathetic whimper fall from his lips before he grits his teeth and chokes off any noises that threaten to rise in his throat.

Suddenly, the pressure is gone, although the pain lingers. Jaebum pushes his breath out slowly between his teeth, letting out a hiss.

"Are you okay?" Jinyoung asks, and his voice is shaking like he's the one who got bitten.

"Yeah," Jaebum says gruffly. "It — it hurt less than I expected."

There's a pause, a moment of silence, but Jaebum can feel the tension emanating off Jinyoung in waves.

"I'm sorry, Jaebum, but" — He can hear Jinyoung's nervous swallow. — "it didn't break the skin."

"What?" Jaebum asks, not processing the words.

"I — I didn't do it hard enough," Jinyoung says, sounding miserable.

Jaebum snorts in disbelief. "Just — god, Jinyoung, just get it over with. Just do it so there's no doubt this time."

"I wanted to make it hurt less."

"I know, but if you just end up having to do it over and over again on the same sore spot, it's just going to — " Jaebum breaks his sentence off with a frustrated noise. "Just do it. Make me bleed this time."

A fingertip traces a ring on Jaebum's shoulder where Jinyoung must have left marks, if not the right kind yet. "Okay. I — okay."

When Jinyoung lowers his mouth to Jaebum's shoulder this time, his breath is steadier. When he bites —

Jaebum can't stop any noise, even if he had the presence of mind to try.

The pain comes faster this time with Jinyoung's decisive movements, but the sting is lost when Jinyoung’s teeth break the skin and Jaebum feels something entirely foreign crashing over him, something he never could have prepared himself for. There's something like heat radiating from Jinyoung's mouth on his shoulder, his teeth sharp and his tongue hot and wet. It all makes warmth spread through his body, drip down his spine, curl low in his belly —

He hears a desperate whine and he thinks it must come from Jinyoung, it _must,_ but then he can feel the answering growl against his skin and through his entire body, and if that's Jinyoung then —

The whining and whimpering are coming from Jaebum.

He should feel shame. He should feel revolted and afraid and any number of things, but instead he feels…

God, he feels _good._ He wants to melt back into Jinyoung’s touch, wants to ask for him to sink his teeth deeper, wants to feel Jinyoung’s hands holding him in place as he does whatever Jaebum asks of him —

And then it’s all gone. The warmth of Jinyoung against his back, the sharp sting of the bite, that feeling of being held close and tight even if the only point of contact between them was Jinyoung’s mouth on his shoulder.

Jaebum only has a second to collect himself before there’s a new sensation at his shoulder, gentle and wet. The unexpectedness of it makes him jolt and he tears himself away from Jinyoung, scrabbling roughly to pull his shirt back down to cover himself.

“What was that?” he demands, wincing at the way his voice sounds thin and breathless like he’s been running.

“I just — Mark said it helps it to heal,” Jinyoung says, his eyes fixed on the floor. “If the alpha tends to the bite afterward — ”

“If you _lick_ me?” Jaebum asks incredulously. He’s heard rumors of it before, but it feels too close to home — letting his alpha lick his wounds because he can’t take care of himself. It’s animalistic in a way that he doesn’t want to come to terms with.

Then again, wasn’t his reaction to the bite itself animalistic? He still feels shaken, like he’s been plucked from a dream (or maybe a nightmare) and dropped back into reality, his body thrumming with phantom sensation and adrenaline and something he refuses to name.

“I just want to make it hurt less,” Jinyoung says stiffly. “I just wanted to help — ”

“You’ve done enough,” Jaebum rasps, and he can’t tell if his mind or his pulse is racing faster.

Jinyoung’s eyes snap up to meet his, emotions warring on his face, more open than he’s ever been in front of Jaebum. There’s hurt, worry, disappointment. But Jaebum has seen all these individually, and now he can see an undercurrent of something else that accompanies them, hidden in the gleam of Jinyoung’s eye, the rigid hold of his shoulders, the straining tendon in his neck.

Jaebum’s eyes drop to where Jinyoung’s hands are carefully held in front of him. Too carefully.

“You got off on it,” Jaebum accuses, curling in on himself and backing away. “You — you _liked_ it, you’ve probably been planning this — ”

“What?” Jinyoung hisses. “That’s bullshit, Jaebum. You’re not being fair.”

“Look at you.” Jaebum gestures crudely to Jinyoung’s crotch, only feeling a vague spike of guilt at how red Jinyoung’s ears go. “You’re all ready to go, aren’t you? Why don’t you just go ahead and take some more, since you clearly haven’t had _enough —_ ”

“Oh, as if you have any room to talk,” Jinyoung snaps. “Look at yourself before you say something you’ll regret.”

Jaebum is about to scoff and snarl an insult at his fiancé — no, husband — no, _mate_ — when he realizes why Jinyoung said what he did. He hadn’t been able to place that feeling of heat flushing through his body because he’d never experienced it from something like a touch on his back, but now everything snaps into place. It’s not like he can deny it even if he wanted to, anyway, not with the way his cock is hanging heavy and full between his legs.

But worse than the familiar stiffness between his legs is that mortifying slick that slides between his thighs every time he moves. He’s only felt it once before, but it immediately makes him feel sick to his stomach at the memory come to life again.

And there it is. There’s the shame he should’ve felt during the bite instead of the stinging, aching pleasure that did _this_ to him. He can’t tell if he hates how good the bite had felt or the fact that his body responded in this specific way more. Either way, all he can do now is curl in even further on himself and try to hide his shame.

But it feels like there’s no way to hide it. From his burning face to the bulge in his crotch to the dampness he can feel starting to seep through his trousers, he feels like he’s been stripped and branded — and in a way, hasn’t he?

The bite on his shoulder throbs. God, he can almost still feel the sweltering heat of Jinyoung’s mouth on him, and he feels torn in two between the lingering need that hums through his body and the instant revulsion he feels at the idea of being owned and marked.

“I didn’t — I don’t — ” Jaebum whispers, voice breaking. The indignant rage that descended on him in a red haze recedes, even as he tries to cling onto it. It’s familiar, at least. It’s easier to be angry than scared.

And god, Jaebum is scared.

Jinyoung doesn’t move toward him, carefully assessing him from a distance. “Neither of us wanted to...react like that,” he finally says. “And if you want me to believe you, then you have to believe me too.”

Jaebum bites back the response that’s on the tip of his tongue — _I don’t have to do a damn thing if I don’t want to_ — and dips his chin to his chest in what could pass for a nod.

At this, Jinyoung takes one tentative step toward him, one hand up like he’s approaching a cornered animal. The other stays in front of him in a gesture so juvenile, so out of place that Jaebum almost wants to laugh at it; but the implications of it, the expectations that come along with it, make any humor Jaebum can find in the situation wither away.

“Jaebum, just let me look at it,” Jinyoung says. “I just want to take care of it, it’s the least I can do — ”

The idea of Jinyoung laying eyes on Jaebum’s bare skin, taking in his handiwork, makes Jaebum feel nauseous. “No,” he manages, giving a jerky shake of his head. “I’ll just — I just want to rest. Please just let me rest.”

Jinyoung sighs in a put-upon manner. “Just one thing before you sleep. Please.”

Jaebum eyes him warily as Jinyoung turns his back on him. He rummages around in the drawer of the nightstand before brandishing something at Jaebum, making him flinch; but they’re just bandages and a jar of ointment, clearly prepared for exactly this.

“Should I even bother asking if you’ll let me help you dress it?” Jinyoung asks, sounding resigned.

“I can do it,” Jaebum insists immediately, darting forward just long enough to snatch the items out of Jinyoung’s hand before retreating again to safety.

Jinyoung bites his lip, looking like he wants to say something but thinking better of it. He’s probably just grateful that Jaebum has stopped hurling accusations at him. “Here, while you do that, I’ll straighten up the bed — ”

The bed that they’ll be expected to share. A wedding bed, Jaebum’s mind supplies, with everything that comes along with that. “ _No,_ ” he repeats, more desperately this time. He casts his eyes around the room until they fall on a divan along the wall, replete with plush pillows and, most importantly, not too close to the bed. He points at it, pretending his hand doesn’t shake. “I’ll sleep there.”

Jinyoung hesitates this time. “Will you be comfortable?”

“More comfortable than on the bed,” Jaebum replies.

He can see Jinyoung’s jaw clench and his throat work as he swallows. “I see. Well, then. Far be it from me to stop you, I guess.”

Jaebum doesn’t know what to say to that. At least, his brain won’t come up with anything that won’t kick off another fight. So instead of saying anything, he makes his way over to the divan, pretending he can’t feel Jinyoung’s eyes burning a hole in his back.

Then again, maybe that’s just the bond bite. _Fuck,_ it hurts.

He tries not to let any of it affect him — the searing ache of his back, the heavy silence between them, the way the growing distance between him and his mate makes him painfully aware of a deep-seated ache for...something. He shoves it away and sits on the divan. Now, he’s faced with a new obstacle: how exactly to bandage a wound that he can’t reach, let alone see.

He manages to get some ointment on it — or at least near it — by twisting himself into knots, wiggling greasy fingers against his back, and praying that he’s covered most of it. When it comes to the bandaging, though, he stops short. There’s no real way for him to manage this without seeing it, but it’s impossible with the location of the bite.

Jaebum jumps when Jinyoung’s voice rings out, small in the large space of the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

“Yes,” Jaebum says stubbornly. “I’m sure.” And maybe he needs to work on his ornery streak, his urge to always dig his heels in and make a point, because instead of bandaging it properly, he shoves a tangled wad of gauze under his shirt until he can feel it tickling against the sore skin around the bite.

He can practically hear Jinyoung roll his eyes, but he remains silent. Finally.

With his wound taken care of, Jaebum lets himself lie on the divan, debating for a split second whether he should leave his back exposed to Jinyoung or make himself face his mate when he wants to do nothing more than hide.

In the end, he settles on lying on his back, even as every movement pulls at the skin around his wound and makes him grit his teeth against the pain. He stubbornly closes his eyes. He _will_ sleep like this, even if his body is trying to revolt against him.

He hears Jinyoung sigh again before shuffling around the room. His footsteps don’t come close enough to the divan for Jaebum to feel nervous enough to crack an eye open, seeming content to give Jaebum a wide berth if it means they can refrain from fighting yet again.

“Jaebum,” he says quietly, as if unsure whether Jaebum is asleep or not.

Jaebum continues pretending to be asleep. He’s had enough talking with Jinyoung to last him a good long while, at the very least until the next morning.

Now the footsteps come closer, but they’re not any different from how Jinyoung was walking around before, not like he’s trying to sneak up on Jaebum or avoid being caught.

Jaebum almost drops the act when he feels something settling over his lower half, but he manages to keep still by some previously undiscovered strength. When the gentle weight rolls up past his waist and over his torso, Jaebum realizes it’s a blanket. It’s the same thick wool that had topped off the bed in his previous quarters, a guard against the bitter Cerisale winter. He feels a bit stupid for not asking for one before pretending to be asleep.

He thinks that’s it, but Jinyoung doesn’t move from his side, lingering by the divan. It sets Jaebum on edge, but he forces himself not to move. If Jinyoung tries anything, Jaebum will be ready for it.

“You know,” Jinyoung says conversationally. “You’re not a very good actor.” Only then can Jaebum hear his footsteps heading away toward the bed.

A different shame hits Jaebum then, separate from the bond bite and everything surrounding it.

Despite the heavy blanket painstakingly draped over him, Jaebum lies frozen, and it has nothing to do with the whistling wind outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really can't tell y'all how much your sweet comments mean to me! it kind of blows my mind how supportive y'all have been, so thank you thank you thank you ♡ it really helps me stay motivated!


	5. Chapter 5

In hindsight, it was a bit stupid of Jaebum to go to sleep without properly tending to the bite.

“You know, not taking care of this was pretty stupid,” Yugyeom says cheerfully as he splashes water down Jaebum’s back, taking care not to spill any outside the tub.

"Thanks," Jaebum manages through gritted teeth. "I couldn't tell." It _hurts,_ and the fact that the burning hot water barely feels warm against the swollen skin around the bite doesn't bode well. It's largely his own damn fault, too — the ointment hadn't been spread over the wound properly, and now Yugyeom has to use hot water to carefully soften where the gauze dried into the bite overnight.

"This doesn't look anything like Jackson's did," Yugyeom says, wrinkling his nose. "I mean, his was nasty-looking, but it started healing pretty much right away. None of this gunk. Are you sure Jinyoung took care of this properly?"

_Jinyoung._

Jaebum shoves away the memory of his mate's fingers against his skin, his gentle words as he asked to tend to the wound. In the light of day — and in light of the pain he's going through right now — his refusal to let Jinyoung take care of him feels childish and short-sighted.

When he'd woken in the morning, Jinyoung had already been gone, his nightclothes carefully folded on the bed as if he were a guest. It makes something sour and ashamed curl in Jaebum's stomach, to see that he's set Jinyoung off-balance too. It's hard to keep believing that Jinyoung holds overwhelming power over him when there's proof everywhere of how much he affects Jinyoung too.

Not to mention, Jaebum really would've liked some help with the bite. Not the kind Jinyoung was offering, of course. As far as Jaebum's concerned, he's had enough of Jinyoung's mouth near his skin for a good long time; but a second set of eyes to examine it properly, hands that can actually reach and dress it fully instead of doing the slapdash job that Jaebum had — Jaebum has to admit they would be helpful.

Jaebum should have been able to anticipate that treating the bite the way he did would result in this sort of mess. He's been injured before, he's had wounds he tried to hide from his parents that taught him the importance of proper care, but the shame and panic that had flooded him after Jinyoung's teeth had brought out some animal instinct in him had rendered all of that null. It makes him want to kick himself. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ Stupid to let an alpha get so deep under his skin that he'd hurt himself further just to make a point. In the end, doesn't that give the alpha all the power, anyway?

"Maybe you can ask Jackson for tips on how to help it heal," Yugyeom suggests, seemingly unaware of the turmoil going on in Jaebum's head right now.

"I'd really rather not," Jaebum replies. He can just imagine the other omega demanding to see it, comparing their bites and oversharing about what his experience had been like. He prefers to deal with Yugyeom. At least the kid can keep his mouth shut. Sometimes. "I think this is good enough."

"I don't know," Yugyeom says doubtfully. "It looks kind of...bad."

"Of course it looks bad," Jaebum says peevishly. "It's an open wound, not an oil painting."

"I mean, it looks really angry, you know?" Yugyeom continues. "It's really red and kind of swollen, and even the parts that the gauze didn't get into look really tender." He doesn't seem particularly fazed by Jaebum's temper.

"It's in a difficult spot," Jaebum says, slightly miffed that Yugyeom didn't immediately back down at his sharp words. He can't tell if he's losing his touch or if it's just because Yugyeom is, despite being younger, a physical giant. "Every time I so much as lean over, I can feel it pulling at the scab — "

"Then don't lean over," Yugyeom says as if it's perfectly obvious.

"And what, not put any trousers on?" Jaebum grumbles.

"Surely, a newlywed has no need for trousers," Yugyeom says so blandly it takes a few moments for his words to register.

"I — you — " Jaebum splutters. "Children shouldn't talk like that."

Yugyeom laughs at him, high and sweet, a sharp contrast to the innuendo he just directed at Jaebum. "You're funny. You always talk like a dad. Or an older brother."

"Well." There's a twinge in Jaebum's chest, a longing ache that twists deep in his heart, and he sinks down slightly lower in the tub. "I am."

"A dad?" Yugyeom asks, sounding scandalized. "Does Jinyoung know? That seems — "

"No, no, no," Jaebum says hastily. "An older brother. I have a baby brother back — " The word _home_ dies in his throat, tasting bitter with memories of his last days there. "Back in Solune," he finishes, hoping Yugyeom won't notice.

"Oh, really?" Yugyeom asks curiously. He must have finished clearing the bandaging from the bite, because now he's moved on to gently swiping a washcloth over Jaebum's back.

For a moment, Jaebum debates telling him that he didn't ask for this much and that he can stop; but he has to admit that the human touch is comforting. Hell, he has to resist the urge to melt back into it and let the tension bleed out of his shoulders with every pass of the cloth over his healthy shoulder.

How long has it been, Jaebum wonders, since he last had the gentle press of a human hand directly against his skin?

Not that long, actually, he realizes, as his brain supplies a wash of memories — Jinyoung's hand on the small of his back guiding him down the aisle, the tickling touch of his fingers lifting the hem of Jaebum's shirt, the gentle brush of his lips against Jaebum's back. There's been plenty, really.

If only it hadn't all been overshadowed by the bite now marring Jaebum's shoulder.

"What's his name?" Yugyeom asks, and it takes Jaebum a moment to pull his brain back from its revelry in feeling a gentle touch again. Right. Yugyeom is asking about his brother.

"Youngjae," Jaebum says, and the word comes out like a sigh. He's been so caught up with either preparing for the wedding or avoiding preparing for the wedding that he's hardly had time to let his mind really linger on the things he does miss about Solune. Everything different about Cerisale has leaped out at him, jarring him and turning his world upside down, but he realizes it has less to do with how much he misses Solune and more to do with how much he doesn't want to change. "His name is Youngjae, and he's a few years younger than me." He feels a wistful smile tug at the corners of his lips. "He's a ray of sunshine."

"Sounds like something we could use here in Cerisale," Yugyeom quips. "Since it's been so chilly here."

Jaebum is pretty sure Yugyeom is talking about the weather. Then again, he could be wrong.

"Does it ever get warm here?" Jaebum asks, smoothly changing the subject to something that might make his heart ache less. "It feels like once you get this much snow, there's no way it'll ever melt."

"Oh, definitely." Yugyeom dips the cloth back into the water before running it over Jaebum's skin again, hot enough to send steam curling around his body. "Come summer, you'll wish it was winter again. Well, maybe not quite," he corrects himself before Jaebum can. "But you'll definitely wish for spring or fall."

Jaebum groans. "When does spring start, then? I've been here a month and I'm ready for winter to be over."

“This isn’t spring enough for you?” Yugyeom giggles. “If you think this is bad, wait until you actually have to spend a whole winter here from start to finish instead of only catching the tail end of it. You're lucky you missed the blizzards."

"Blizzards," Jaebum says disbelievingly. "And you willingly choose to live here?"

"It's nice," Yugyeom says. "I mean, of course, the winters are awfully cold, but doesn't the cold weather make hot baths and warm hearths better in the end?" As if to emphasize his point, he settles the washcloth soaked with hot water around Jaebum's neck, sending warmth seeping through his core.

"It's...not terrible," Jaebum concedes. "Better than a sunburn, I'll give you that."

"The cherry blossom festival will be pretty soon, too," Yugyeom says, excitement tinting his voice. "The trees will be blooming before you even know it. The snow is already melting, actually. You just don't know because you haven't been outside."

It probably isn't meant to be an accusation, but it feels like one. "I just — I've been busy," Jaebum deflects.

"With what?" Yugyeom teases, playful in a way that a servant shouldn't be; but instead of bristling like he probably should, Jaebum finds himself savoring the push-and-pull of conversation, something he's been cutting himself off from for longer than he wants to admit.

"Wedding preparations," Jaebum lies. "And now...stuff. Just stuff."

"Oh, I'm sure Jinyoung will keep you plenty busy, hyung," Yugyeom says. Jaebum can hear the self-satisfied smile on his face, and he's not sure if he's more stuck on the implication that he and Jinyoung are _busy_ with anything or the way Yugyeom calls him hyung in the same way that Youngjae used to, but he's about to reprimand the boy before hot water is dumped over his head with no warning.

Jaebum splutters, trying to part his dripping hair so he can turn and glare balefully at the boy.

All he gets in return is a smile like butter wouldn't melt in the boy's mouth. Brat.

"Just rinsing your hair, hyung," Yugyeom says brightly. "You're welcome."

Jaebum mutters to himself about insubordination and disrespectful children, but when Yugyeom offers him the thickest, fluffiest towel from the wardrobe, he takes it without complaining.

It's just because he's saving a stern talking-to for when both Yugyeom and Bambam are there, he tells himself. He'll handle it eventually. It has nothing to do with missing how Youngjae and Hongbin used to tease him, before everyone started treating him like blown glass or fragile goods. It has nothing to do with that at all.

Now, if only Jaebum can make himself believe it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I do go outside," Jaebum says stubbornly as he yanks thick woolen socks up his calves. “Just because some smart-mouthed servant says I don't doesn't mean it's true."

He’s talking to an empty room — something he doesn’t want to analyze too deeply — but his words get a response that he wasn’t expecting. At first, he thinks he’s imagining it, his head whipping up to look around the room, but then he hears it again — a quiet but unmistakable meow.

“Nora?” he says, hardly believing his luck.

She gives him a meow of acknowledgment and makes her way toward him. The way she walks to him is the same as always, regal and leisurely, and he grins at the sight of her.

“Well, don’t you just get more beautiful every day?” he says, cupping her head and rubbing his thumb behind her ear. “It’s good to see you again. I’ve resorted to talking to bratty children and it’s chipping away at my sanity.”

Nora meows plaintively.

“No, it’s perfectly sane to talk to a cat,” Jaebum insists. “I don’t judge you for your past of eating rats, so you don’t get to judge me for this.”

Nora doesn’t justify his words with a response, instead slipping out from under his hand like oil across the top of water.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, hastily tugging shoes on over his socks, lacing them up as fast as his fingers will allow, and sweeping his cloak off the rack by the door so he can follow her. “I hope you haven’t been causing too much trouble while I’ve been busy.”

She leaves the room with a dainty swish of her tail and he leaps off the bed to follow her.

“You’re not mad at me for being busy, are you?” he wonders as he follows her down the spiral staircase. “I’m sorry if you had to go back to eating rats instead of human food. Although, it’s probably better for you.”

She could definitely bound down the stairs and lose him if she wanted to, so he’d like to think his apology is working.

She surprises him by stopping off on the landing of the entrance to the library and walking around in circles in front of the double doors, meowing loudly and endlessly.

“What do you want in there, huh?” Jaebum laughs, squatting down in front of her. “I don’t think a cat has much use for books, unless you’re hiding something from me. What else could you need from the — ”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when the door sweeps open. Irrational thoughts flood his brain — ghosts, demons, witches — but when he looks up, all he sees is the second son regarding them both with an amused expression. Younghyun, he remembers. The one with the bright smile and the gentle manners, the one that seems to have nothing but softness to him despite the sharpness of his features.

“I see you’ve met our resident princess,” Younghyun says as Nora bolts to him and winds between his shins, purring loudly. He flashes Jaebum a grin that he would probably read as a threat from any other alpha, but from him feels genuine and sweet. “I was wondering where she’d been running off to the past few weeks or so.”

“Bambam said she was just a rat catcher in the kitchens,” Jaebum says faintly, caught off-guard by the unpleasant combination of unexpectedly meeting a near-stranger and worrying that he may have accidentally stolen his brother-in-law’s cat.

“Oh, she was,” Younghyun assures him. “I used to visit her sometimes, but it’s been a while since I last saw her. And here she is, with the newest member of our family.” He leans down to scratch her behind her ears and she leans up into his touch.

Traitor, Jaebum thinks. She looks far too satisfied with herself.

“Apparently, she stopped wanting rats when she had a taste of real food,” Jaebum admits. “So Bambam said I could just keep her. I haven’t seen her since — since the wedding.”

Younghyun kindly doesn’t point out his stutter, simply saying, “There are other cats in the castle that can catch rats. I’m sure it won’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, relieved that his one comfort isn’t about to be condemned by the royal family.

“You’re a bit overdressed for the library, though, aren’t you?” Younghyun gestures at Jaebum’s cloak and boots.

“I was planning on heading out into the gardens until Nora led me here,” Jaebum replies.

“Nora?” Younghyun raises his eyebrows.

“Her,” Jaebum says, nodding down at the cat in question. At the mention of her name, Nora meows and returns to Jaebum, rubbing up against his calf unapologetically. “I shouldn’t forgive you for this, you know,” he says sternly, but then she turns and butts her face into the laces of his boots and he feels his heart melt. “Well, you drive a hard bargain, but I guess I’ll let this one slide.”

Suddenly, Jaebum remembers that he’s not alone with Nora, and while the cat may not mind his habit of talking to her like a human, other people might find it a bit more odd. His head whips up to look at Younghyun again.

The prince is simply smiling at them, amused but not mocking. “She likes you an awful lot, doesn’t she?”

“I sure hope so,” Jaebum says, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I mean, considering how much I feed her.”

Younghyun laughs. “I think any creature has a soft spot for anyone who has a soft spot for them. Humans included.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, trying not to think about how easy he’s been going on Yugyeom and Bambam lately. Soft spots aren’t something he needs to deal with when he’s been rendered weak enough already by his presentation. He focuses on Nora instead. “Or maybe it’s really just about sausages.”

When he looks up again, Younghyun is looking at him thoughtfully. “Do you mind if I join you in the gardens?” Younghyun offers abruptly. “I’ve been meaning to exercise today, and I may as well get to know my new brother while I’m at it.”

His eyes are so hopeful that Jaebum finds himself nodding without even realizing it. Damn it, since when is Im Jaebum such a people-pleaser?

This is his life now, he thinks despairingly as Younghyun gives him a wide smile. Hounded endlessly by well-meaning busybodies.

When they enter the gardens, the first thing that shocks Jaebum is the fact that Yugyeom hadn’t been lying about the snow melting. For some reason, Jaebum had assumed that the perpetual state of Cerisale was blanketed in snow, difficult to navigate and unforgivingly cold. A Cerisale in winter feels appropriate for the circumstances under which he came, a properly bleak fate for an exiled prince.

Now, though, the prickly hedges surrounding the garden aren't the only thing green and alive. The earth is finally thawed enough that tiny spears of grass are poking through, delicate and unsure, but beautiful in their brightness. Jaebum takes care to stick to the path Younghyun leads them down so he doesn't crush them underfoot.

When his eyes fall on the gnarled old cherry tree — _his_ tree, some stupidly possessive part of his brain thinks — he almost doesn't recognize it. Instead of the barren branches he'd climbed to avoid Hakyeon a month ago, there are leaves and buds sprouting, adorning the wood in bursts of life and color. The buds haven't bloomed yet, tightly packed in on themselves as if they're hiding from the rays of the sun.

Even the sun has changed in the time Jaebum's cooped himself up in the castle. Instead of the harsh bite of the winter sun, white and sharp, the sun feels gentler now. It's not like the unrelenting summer sun that beat down on Jaebum in Solune this time of year; it feels like it kisses Jaebum's cheeks with warmth, just enough to take the edge off the coldness still permeating the air.

He tilts his head back and takes it in. The gentle rustle of wind through his hair, the light fragrance of flowers, the barely audible crunch of the stones of the path beneath his feet, the warmth that he can feel soaking into the heavy cloak he's been lent.

It's peaceful. It's exactly what he needed after the way the past months of his life have built up into a cacophony that sends his head ringing endlessly.

Of course, the Cerisale royal family doesn’t seem to care much for leaving Jaebum in his moments of peace.

Younghyun sighs contentedly. "Gorgeous day for a walk, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jaebum says tentatively. "The sun actually exists here. Who knew?"

Younghyun laughs, probably more loudly than Jaebum's joke deserves. "Winter isn't really your thing?"

Jaebum wrinkles his nose at the memory of the piercing cold when he first arrived. "You could say that."

"Jae had an awful time adjusting to the winters here at first too," Younghyun offers.

"Jae?" Jaebum asks, hope foolishly spiking in his heart at the mention of the nickname he sometimes used with Youngjae. Hope for what, he doesn't even know. Maybe it was less hope and more an instinctive reaction to familiarity, really.

"My mate," Younghyun clarifies. "He's from further south too, although not as far as you, I don't think. He lived right on the water, though, so it kept it nice year-round. When he came here — " Younghyun cuts off with a snort, shaking his head with fond amusement in his eyes. "You wouldn't believe how much he complained. Seriously, we're lucky I'm standing here today considering how hard he tried to give my shins frostbite with his icicle toes during his first winter."

Jaebum feels himself smile instinctively at Younghyun's contagious good humor. "I suppose he's gotten used to it by now, then?"

"Oh, god, no. I wish." Younghyun laughs. "You can take the boy out of the sunshine land, but you can't take the sunshine land out of the boy." He looks at Jaebum, his eyes turning soft around the edges with sympathy. "Did Jinyoung not keep you warm enough last night? No offense, but you look — well, you've looked better, and I've hardly even seen you."

"I — he — " Jaebum stammers, trying to figure out how much he wants to say. Younghyun seems trustworthy, but in the end, he's the brother of Jinyoung and Hakyeon and probably has depths that Jaebum can't even hope to anticipate. He has no idea how much of what he tells Younghyun will be relayed to the other brothers. He sticks with saying, "Warmth wasn't really an issue."

"Is something else wrong, then?" Younghyun asks curiously.

Curse the Cerisale royal family and their eerie perceptiveness, Jaebum thinks. It almost makes him miss the days when his own father would easily ignore whatever emotion played openly across Jaebum's face. Almost.

"Just the bite, you know." Jaebum shrugs and then winces as the motion pulls at the tender skin underneath layers of clothing.

Younghyun frowns. "Did Jinyoungie not tend to it properly?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" Jaebum snaps. "Why does my well-being always have something to do with Jinyoung?"

Younghyun comes to a stop in the middle of the path and Jaebum reluctantly follows suit, not wanting to appear rude.

"Well, he's the one who bit you," Younghyun says slowly. "Not to be gross, but alpha saliva really does help the healing process, at least from what I've heard. Not to mention, if he's not taking care of you, he's not fulfilling his role as your mate."

"You mean his role as my alpha," Jaebum says shortly, bristling at the suggestion that he requires someone else to take care of him.

"No," Younghyun says, furrowing his brow. "No spouse should just let their partner suffer. I mean, Jae is a beta, but we're both responsible for each other, you know? And Hakyeon and Taekwoon are both betas, so it's not about anything like Jinyoung being your alpha, it's just...partnership, you know?"

"Wait a second." Jaebum is trying to make his brain formulate sentences after the information Younghyun's given him has brought all his thought processes to a screeching halt. "Back up. What did you just say about Hakyeon?"

Younghyun raises a brow. "He and Taekwoon are both betas?"

"But — " Jaebum struggles for words. "Hakyeon? Isn't an alpha?"

"Jesus, no." Younghyun looks aghast. "Isn't he already terrifying enough as a beta? Can you imagine him with alpha hormones?"

"I thought he was terrifying _because_ he was an alpha," Jaebum admits, still trying to wrap his mind around the revelation. "I mean, he's so — so — "

"So Hakyeon?" Younghyun offers sympathetically. "He's just on a level of his own. We all grew up with it, but it's probably jarring for strangers."

"I thought I couldn't smell him just because he was bonded," Jaebum mutters. He feels embarrassment color his cheeks as he remembers how he'd called Hakyeon an alpha to his face, and the way Hakyeon had laughed at him without bothering to correct him. "But he — _what?_ "

"Is this really that shocking to you?" Younghyun asks, amused.

" _Yes,_ " Jaebum says emphatically. "How could it not be? I mean, even my father thought you were all alphas — "

Younghyun shrugs. "People tend to assume since the rest of us are alphas that the one in line to inherit the throne must be one too."

"But why does he get to keep his title as the crown prince?" Jaebum asks, the reminder rankling inside him. _It's not fair._

"Well." It's Younghyun's turn to look embarrassed this time, scratching at the back of his neck as he looks at the ground. "My father did ask me once, when I first presented. If I wanted to inherit the crown instead. But I never wanted it, you know?"

No, not really, Jaebum wants to say, imagining himself in Younghyun’s shoes; but then he thinks of Youngjae — a second son, bright and sweet with no hunger for power or duty. He begrudgingly says, "Yeah, I get it."

"Plus," Younghyun adds, "can you imagine challenging Hakyeon's right to the throne? You'd need balls of steel. Like actual steel, honestly, I grew up sparring with Hakyeon and the man doesn't play nice."

Jaebum almost chokes in surprise on the laugh that rises in his chest. "Yeah, he struck me as that type."

"He's a hair-puller," Younghyun says darkly. "Him and Jinyoung."

That should make Jaebum afraid, he thinks. The mention of his mate being someone who doesn't fight fair, who yanks on hair and plays dirty — that should set him on edge. Instead, his brain conjures up an image of a tiny Hakyeon and an even tinier Jinyoung slapping at each other and whining loudly, and he finds himself smiling at the thought.

"Then again," Younghyun says, sounding almost too innocent, "you'll probably get to know all about Jinyoung and hair-pulling."

"Excuse me?" Jaebum manages despite the fact that he wants to scream _what the fuck is that supposed to mean?_ in Younghyun’s face.

“Oh, nothing,” Younghyun says, the picture of guileless sweetness. Maybe he's not so different from his brothers after all. "Although, I have to say, I wasn't expecting to see both the newlyweds out and about so soon. I know Jae and I didn't resurface for a few days, and Jackson and Mark were just indecent about it — "

"We're — we didn't," Jaebum says. The idea of Younghyun — and everyone else in the castle, probably — thinking that Jaebum and Jinyoung spent their first night together doing god only knows what makes him want to hide his face in his hands.

"Oh?" Younghyun raises his eyebrows. "I mean, I knew you had your misgivings," — A massive understatement, in Jaebum's opinion. — "but I thought the bond bite might...speed things along."

Jaebum can't argue with that. The fact that despite his anxiety, his body had reacted so strongly to the bite makes him wonder how he would have behaved if he didn't have so many worries plaguing him.

"Jaebum," Younghyun says, sounding hesitant. "You do know that Jinyoung doesn't mean you any harm, right?"

Jaebum shrugs. "Just because he doesn't mean it doesn't mean it isn't done, right?"

Younghyun's mouth twists into a frown. "What has he done?"

"I — " Jaebum pauses, racking his brain for an example. "I can't think of anything specific," he finally admits, feeling slightly embarrassed. He likes to think he's at least decently intelligent, but being caught out without an answer like this makes him feel like he's standing in front of his father again, young and small. "It's not any one thing, I think. It's just...how alphas are towards omegas, you know?"

"Not...really, no?" Younghyun replies. "Have I done anything to hurt you that I should know about?"

"No, you — that's not what I'm trying to say," Jaebum says hastily, not wanting to grievously offend the only member of the royal family that he doesn't feel at loggerheads with.

Younghyun hums in acknowledgment. "Does Jinyoung know?"

"Know what?" Jaebum asks.

"That you feel like this?" Younghyun cocks his head to the side curiously. "Have you talked to him about how you feel?"

Jaebum blanches at even the thought of making himself even more vulnerable to Jinyoung than he already is. "Why the hell would I do that?"

All Younghyun does is laugh.

Jaebum frowns indignantly at him. "What's so funny?" he demands.

"So, let me get this straight,” Younghyun starts. “You want him to take how you feel into consideration — "

"I mean, I wouldn't put it like that, exactly," Jaebum interrupts. The way Younghyun phrases it makes Jaebum's actions seem petulant and immature, which — Jaebum doesn't want to think about that.

"How would you put it, then?" Younghyun asks, sounding entirely too amused now.

"He just — I wish — " Jaebum grasps for the words to voice his thoughts. "I don't want to be here," he settles on. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he cringes at how childish they sound. "And I don't want to be married to some alpha who doesn't understand what an omega's life is like." The addition hardly helps, though, and Jaebum is left feeling unsettled. What the hell happened to his debate skills from preparing for international diplomacy?

"Okay, well,” Younghyun says. “First of all, it sounds like you're still bitter about the situation itself.”

"Really?" Jaebum says drily. "What would ever give you that idea?"

"Call it a gut feeling," Younghyun says with a small smile, and Jaebum can't stop himself from snorting. "But the second part.... I guess you didn't really answer my question earlier. Does he know?"

"He should," Jaebum insists. "If he doesn't, then — "

"Then you should tell him," Younghyun says. Despite the gentleness of his voice, there's a firmness to his words that makes Jaebum's mouth snap shut. “How can he know if you don’t tell him?”

“I — ” Jaebum grits his teeth, his jaw clenching painfully with frustration. He’s not sure if it’s at Younghyun or himself. “Why do I have to be the one to tell him?”

“Because you’re the one who’s upset.” Younghyun says with a small, wry smile. “And I think Jinyoungie is probably upset about it too. At the very least because you don’t seem to _want_ to get along with him, and — well, Jinyoung isn’t used to anyone disliking him, really.”

“Maybe he should learn to deal with it,” Jaebum says mulishly, but even as he speaks, he feels doubt creeping in at the corners of his mind.

“You wouldn’t be very happy if I told you that you should just learn to deal with how alphas make you feel, would you?” Younghyun counters.

Jaebum opens his mouth, wanting to say _Isn’t that what an omega’s life is, anyway?_ when he realizes that — that’s not how Younghyun has handled this conversation. Nothing about the solutions he’s offered has been about Jaebum submitting to expectations and accepting his role with his head down and tail between his legs.

Jaebum swallows his words and reconsiders. “No,” he says eventually. “I wouldn’t be.”

Younghyun shrugs, the gesture small but final. “The rest of your life is a long time to spend angry at someone,” he says. “Thanks for the walk, Jaebum-ah. I think we’ve both been needing this.”

Younghyun turns on his heel and heads back up the path toward the castle. Jaebum stares at the gardens, snow melted and life waiting with bated breath beneath the surface, with new eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum spends the rest of the day in the garden. He has plenty to mull over from his conversation with Younghyun, and he’s one of the nicer brothers; Jaebum thinks his brain might just spontaneously combust if he has to deal with a conversation with Hakyeon or, god forbid, Jinyoung.

_Jinyoung._

It always comes back to this. It always comes back to him. No matter how much Jaebum tries to run from it or shove it away, he finds himself circling around the alpha at the center of it all.

But maybe, just maybe, it isn't about him. Or at least, not just him.

_How can he know if you don't tell him?_

The words echo through his mind even as the sun starts to set, leaving Jaebum at the mercy of the early spring chill. He can't shake them, can't stop them from wearing away at the foundations of the reality he's perceived since he arrived in Cerisale.

The setting sun feels like a death sentence, a guillotine falling to the horizon far too quickly. There's nothing to do now but return to the castle and face his fate. At least, he thinks wryly as he tries to wrap his cloak tighter around him against the night wind, the castle will be warm, even if nothing else goes right.

His feet lead him up the stairs, past the library, higher into the tower. It’s a path he remembers only dimly from after the wedding, but right now it triggers a much more vivid memory — the warm, sweet scent that enticed Jaebum on his first night before Hakyeon came down these very stairs. Hakyeon must have been visiting Jinyoung, then freshly returned from his trip, in his quarters (their quarters now, Jaebum thinks, and the thought makes his stomach do a slow, strange flip).

It’s not just a memory, Jaebum realizes. The scent is here, right now, growing stronger with every step Jaebum takes. Even if he had forgotten his way back to their rooms, he would’ve been able to follow the scent that now guides him like a beacon in the dark. He swallows hard as the reality of facing Jinyoung again hits him. It’s one thing to abstractly understand that he needs to at least start taking baby steps toward making Jinyoung understand him; it’s entirely another thing to force his feet up the stairs, one by one, even as his heart is pounding so hard in his throat that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to force words out.

When he reaches their rooms, the door swings open to reveal Jinyoung sitting on the bed, looking younger and more carefree than he has since the day Jaebum met him. Jaebum’s eyes immediately follow the line of Jinyoung’s hand down to —

Well. Jaebum shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

Nora turns on her back on the bed, purring loudly enough that Jaebum is surprised the four-poster doesn’t come down around her and Jinyoung. He scowls at her, but he feels the lines of his face soften when he takes in how Jinyoung looks at her.

He’s smiling, showing that precious eye crinkle that takes years off his face, and his fingers dance playfully in front of Nora’s face, letting her swat lazily at his hand before he rubs at her head.

At the sound of the door, though, Jinyoung immediately stiffens, drawing his hand back sharply. Nora lets out a disgruntled chirp. When she realizes that she isn’t going to get any more attention, she curls up on the side of the bed opposite Jinyoung, just out of reach as if to spite him.

Jaebum stands, frozen there, unsure of what to do in the face of the domestic scene he’s been faced with.

Nora fixes him with her blue eyes and meows, her tail flicking lazily. _Don’t mess this up,_ Jaebum imagines her saying.

He takes in the silent form of his mate sitting on the bed. No pressure, of course.

Jaebum takes a deep breath to steel himself and ventures inside, closing the door after him.

Silence hangs heavy between them, Jaebum standing just shy of the doorway and Jinyoung on the bed as if he's waiting for something. The only sound is the quiet pad of Jaebum's footsteps when he finally starts to move. It's no different from the steps, he tells himself. One foot in front of the other. The only way out is through.

Before he's ready for it, he's standing next to the bed, close enough to Jinyoung that his scent is unavoidable, cloyingly sweet and heady. He can't tell if it's getting stronger or if he's just more sensitive after their bonding, but either way, he feels it seeping into his senses, making them more overwhelming but duller at the same time, making his head feel pleasantly thick like it's been wrapped in warm knit against the cold.

It's inconvenient, considering the conversation he needs to have.

"Jinyoung," Jaebum manages through clenched teeth.

There's no response, Jinyoung acting as though Jaebum hasn't spoken despite the noticeable tightness around his eyes as he stares at the ground.

"I...didn't realize," Jaebum says, the words coming out stilted and awkward. "That I was leaving you in the dark."

Jinyoung barks out a laugh, mirthless and sharp. "Well, ignoring people must've worked _incredibly_ well for you in the past for you not to pick up on that."

"I don't — this has never been an issue for me before," Jaebum says, forcing his voice to stay low and calm. There's a part of him that immediately rises to the challenge hidden in Jinyoung's words and tone, but he tries as best he can to keep himself under control.

"Oh, good to know that you don't have a string of failed marriages behind you," Jinyoung snipes.

"I — that's not what I meant," Jaebum says, feeling his temper rising despite his efforts. "You know that's not what I meant."

"How am I even supposed to know what you mean?" Jinyoung asks. There's a mean edge to his voice that Jaebum hasn't heard since he'd implied there was something off about Jackson and Mark's relationship, but he can't argue that this — this might be warranted, especially after his conversation with Younghyun.

_How can he know if you don't tell him?_

Jaebum takes a deep breath. "I should've told you," he says, forcing the words past his lips even though there's still a part of him raging at the injustice of everything; of the marriage, of his presentation, of everything that's happened since. "But I'm telling you now, I guess."

"Telling me what?" Jinyoung asks, but his voice is already softer, as if all it took was a few kinder words from Jaebum to show this side of him. There's a part of Jaebum that hates that — hates how Jinyoung seems so willing to become gentle and pliant despite the way he presents a prickly image that cuts away at anyone who dares to attempt getting closer. It makes Jinyoung seem far too human, too delicate for the way Jaebum's been treating him.

Then again, wasn't that the entire point Younghyun had been trying to make?

"That I — that this is all hard for me," Jaebum manages. "None of this — I don't know how much you know about me, I have no idea what kind of — of information my parents gave you before selling me off — "

"That's not my fault," Jinyoung interjects, but he doesn't seem angry, he just seems...defensive, but in a way that's more upset than spiteful.

"I — I'm not saying it's your fault," Jaebum dodges. "All I'm saying is that it's difficult, okay? I told you a little bit about...what happened after. After I presented." Shame flushes his cheeks and he swallows hard before continuing, "Everything changed. I was raised to be a king, but then I became a — an embarrassment. Something to be swept under the rug, you know?"

It's only now that Jinyoung's eyes meet his, rising from where he's been staring at the floor to look Jaebum properly in the face. "How was I supposed to know?" he whispers, his voice raw in a way that Jaebum, after the past month or so, can relate to on a painfully intimate level. "We've never — if you'd presented as an omega, I don't know what would've happened to you here. I don't think it would've been the same, though."

Jaebum exhales, long and hard. "I believe you, but — things are the way they are. There's nothing we can do to change that."

There's a beat of silence before Jinyoung says quietly, "Just because you perceive things a certain way doesn't mean that's the way they are, though."

"What do you mean?" Jaebum asks, defensiveness flaring despite the careful tone Jinyoung used.

"I mean that the way you experienced things in Solune isn't the same as here," Jinyoung says. "I don't — what you lived through there — I'll never really know. I can't pretend to know." His fingers are knotted in the blanket, Jaebum notices, hanging on tight enough to make his knuckles white. "But Jaebum — please believe me when I say I don't harbor any ill will toward you. I'm not sitting here planning how to hurt you or make your life difficult."

"I know," Jaebum says reluctantly. "I don't think you're trying to — I don't know." His head drops, his chin dipping down to his chest as tries to hide from both Jinyoung and his own shame. "I'm sorry for — for what I said after the bite. I shouldn't have assumed."

"No," Jinyoung agrees. "You shouldn't have."

Jaebum takes a deep breath. "I shouldn't have accused you of trying to do anything more than consummating the bond. And I shouldn't — I shouldn't have refused your help." As if in response to his words, the bite on his back throbs, hot and painful, and he winces. "I — I really regret that. I do."

"Hey." Jinyoung's voice is low and soothing enough that Jaebum feels okay looking up at him again, meeting his eyes to see that Jinyoung is giving him that look he'd had before — not pitying, but gently sympathetic. "I didn't — does it hurt?"

Jaebum can't stop himself from nodding guiltily. He doesn't want to admit the weakness, especially not after the vulnerability of their conversation, but he can't deny that the pain of the bite has been becoming sharper and hotter and harder to ignore throughout the day, spreading from the bite until his whole body feels vaguely uncomfortable and too warm.

"Help me," Jaebum says, his voice so quiet that it would be lost in the room if it weren't for the silence that surrounds them otherwise. "Please."

Jinyoung swallows so hard that Jaebum can hear the click of his throat. "Okay. Come here?"

This is how Jaebum finds himself in a situation he swore he'd never let himself into — sitting on a bed with his cloak pooled on the floor by him and an alpha in his space, long fingers tickling once again at the hem of his shirt and his heart fit to burst inside his chest.

"You're really sure, right?" Jinyoung asks, even as he starts to lift Jaebum's shirt to reveal his back.

"Not much choice anymore, is there?" Jaebum intones dully.

He can hear the frown in Jinyoung's voice when he says, "That's not what I asked, though."

"I'm sure," Jaebum says before Jinyoung can add anything more. "I'm really sure. Please. It hurts."

The fabric of his shirt rises up past the bite, exposing the overheated skin to the cool night air that permeates the chamber, and Jaebum can't hold back a hiss at the feeling.

"It looks like it does," Jinyoung says. "I — I didn't know it would look like this. I'm sorry."

Jaebum shrugs before hissing at the shot of pain that shivers across his back at the movement. "What else were you supposed to do?" he asks. "This — this is just the way it is."

"I suppose," Jinyoung says slowly. "I — should I just do it now then?"

"No point in waiting," Jaebum says, feeling a sickly sense of deja vu before a hot throb from the bite has him biting at his lip. "Please, just — just do it, Jinyoung."

"Okay," Jinyoung breathes. "Okay." And he lowers his mouth to Jaebum's shoulder, carefully, hesitantly, giving Jaebum every chance to back out; but what else can he do when the pain is spreading down his back and arm? So Jaebum lets it happen.

He isn't sure if it's because he wants relief from the pain or if maybe, just maybe, there's a part of him that wonders if he'll get the same high, the same shot of pleasure as last night.

It's an echo of the night before when Jinyoung had made the mark he's now soothing — soft, wet lips against his sore skin, a tongue licking delicately around the edges, a warm mouth on his back the only contact between them. Just like last night, there's a current of heat that rolls through Jaebum's body, but it's subtler this time, making him bite back a groan instead of sending his brain into a state of fuzziness that he can't understand.

The tension seeps out of his shoulders. He's leaning back against Jinyoung, he realizes, melting into his touch, just the way he'd wanted to when the bite had first occurred. But who could blame him, with the way the gentle working of Jinyoung's tongue seems to swipe away the pain with every movement?

He tries to ignore how Jinyoung's scent becomes stronger with every breath they take, every shift they make that sends the bed creaking ever so slightly under their weight. Jinyoung exhales heavily against his skin, just the hint of voice behind it, not quite enough to be a groan; but it makes Jaebum want to respond in kind, makes him want to express the way his body is tipping from pain over into pleasure at Jinyoung's touch.

It's over too soon. Even once the pain is gone, Jaebum wants Jinyoung to continue, to keep mouthing at his shoulder, maybe down his spine and other places he shouldn't even consider. The panic isn't as strong this time. He was anticipating it from the start, after how the bite had gone last night. Still, it jars Jaebum how much his body responds to it — the feel of Jinyoung's mouth, the draw of his scent, the warmth of his body sitting behind him on the mattress.

"I think that's enough," Jinyoung murmurs, his lips still brushing against the now wet skin of Jaebum's back. "Does it feel better?"

"Yeah," Jaebum breathes, and he hates the way his voice breaks on the single syllable. "Can you — would you be okay helping me with the bandaging?"

"Of course," Jinyoung says, sounding slightly affronted at the question. "What, did you think I was just going to leave you with spit on your shoulder and nothing else? I know you don’t have a very high opinion of me, but I’m not a monster."

Jaebum tactfully bites his tongue and keeps quiet. The kind of person he thinks Jinyoung is — well, the kind of person he thought Jinyoung was, if he's going to be fair — wouldn't be so mindful about the sweep of his tongue over Jaebum's wound, wouldn't offer to bandage Jaebum without asking something more in return, wouldn't be able to have Jaebum sitting on his bed without pressing, grabbing, _demanding._

It's all wrong, Jaebum thinks, even as his body sags in relief.

Jinyoung's fingers are just as cautious as his tongue was when they dab ointment over the wound and carefully wind the bandage around his torso, leaving him with no doubt that the bite is covered and he won't have to go through the painful process of washing fabric out of it again.

Jinyoung brushes his fingertips against Jaebum's shoulder one last time before letting them drop back down into his own lap. "There," he says. "All done."

Jaebum very carefully rolls his left shoulder, surprised when there isn't a sharp stab of pain anymore; rather, there's a faint, dull ache, but it already feels undeniably better just from a few minutes of Jinyoung's ministrations. "Thank you," he says, and he can hear the shock in his own voice.

"Of course." There's the rustle of movement on the bed behind him. "I — I was planning on sleeping soon, so you might want to...move, I guess. Or go wherever you were planning on going."

Jaebum pauses. He should sleep on the divan again, probably, he thinks. But there’s another part of him — namely, his aching lower back that has nothing to do with the bite — that thinks that wouldn’t be the best idea. Besides, if Jinyoung were going to do anything, Jaebum thinks it would have been in the heat of the bite, or even when he had Jaebum half-undressed and unsuspecting with his bare skin underneath Jinyoung’s mouth. If the arousal that had flushed through him had been anything like what Jaebum had experienced, then he must have enough self-control to at least prevent himself from pouncing on Jaebum at any provocation. Sharing a bed won’t be nearly as intimate as Jinyoung’s teeth sinking into his skin, especially considering how large the bed is. If they want to, they can even pretend they’re alone in the bed, really.

Plus, a smaller, slightly irrational part of him says as he takes in the small furry figure curled opposite Jinyoung, if Nora trusts Jinyoung, then maybe Jaebum should give it a shot too.

He puts off the decision by standing from the bed and walking over to the dresser, keeping his back to Jinyoung as he replaces his daytime wear with nightclothes. The divan is right there, rosy and tempting and safe. Familiar territory that comes with the promise of being left alone, but also the promise of sore muscles and a stasis in his relationship with Jinyoung.

Jaebum’s gaze wanders back toward the bed. Jinyoung is lying underneath the blankets now, his eyes fixed on a book in his hands, but his eyes are unmoving, fixed on one spot on the page, and his posture seems like a careful study in casualness that’s almost too perfect.

And — well. The bed is plenty large. It’s not like Jaebum would even have to be close to him.

It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid, exactly the kind of thing that he’d thought he wouldn’t give into when he’d left Solune, but he finds himself walking over to the free side of the bed, coaxing Nora to move slightly. He can feel Jinyoung’s eyes on him, but he tries to keep himself from looking up, focusing on the disgruntled cat he has on his hands before he tugs the blankets back and slips underneath.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he says stiffly, still avoiding Jinyoung’s gaze. “I’ll just...sleep here.”

There’s a beat, a pause, a silence again. A shift.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says finally. “As long as you’re fine with it.”

Jaebum shrugs like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his chest. “Yeah,” he says, ignoring how choked his voice is despite his efforts to sound nonchalant. “Just sleeping, right?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung echoes, his voice sounding strange. “Just sleeping.”

There’s something about his voice that slips into Jaebum’s ear and settles at the back of his mind, a niggling sort of discomfort that Jaebum doesn’t know what to do with. There’s emotion in Jinyoung’s words, a kind of vulnerability Jaebum can’t see but can feel all the same.

As Jinyoung leans over and extinguishes the light, plunging them into darkness, Jaebum realizes what Jinyoung’s words have sparked in him.

Guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter count just keeps going up but uhhh let's pretend that's not happening. i think i might just change it to /? because i am godawful at sticking to chapter breaks in my outline (which is for the best probably, or else i'd end up with 20k chapters and lose steam).
> 
> this update gave me a ton of grief - anxiety has had an ironclad grip on my balls lately and it definitely makes writing more of a challenge. so thank you very much for your patience in waiting for the update and the wonderful comments you leave ♡ as always, they make a huge difference when anxiety brain™ is up to its shenanigans and i appreciate them so so much!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up, this chapter contains something that could be construed as dubcon. **read at your own risk!**

Jaebum thought that things might be different the morning after he lets Jinyoung tend to his bite.

He’s sure that Jinyoung must still be in the bed next to him, his scent wrapped around Jaebum as surely as the blanket covering him. It’s different, sweeter like an overripe fruit, and it takes Jaebum a moment to place the difference — it’s mingled with Jaebum’s, intertwined in such a way that he can hardly recognize his own scent.

It’s more bearable like this, he thinks. Jinyoung’s scent takes the edge off of his own.

When he rolls over, the scent hits him even harder, like a physical blow that knocks the breath out of him. It makes him suddenly, painfully aware of his morning wood. He scrambles back across the sheets like he’s been burned, away from Jinyoung’s side of the bed, but he finds himself alone, tangled in sheets soaked with a scent that makes his cock throb in the loose trousers he wore to sleep.

He glares down at his crotch. "Don't go getting ideas."

It's not quite as bad as either of the times Jinyoung touched his bond bite — both the initial marking and the way Jinyoung had tended to him had hit him so hard he could barely think — but Jinyoung's lingering scent is affecting Jaebum more than it should when his mate isn't even in the room.

It feels like it's seeped under Jaebum's skin, sending tingling warmth pulsing through his body, making him feel restless and boneless all at once. It's like a deep-seated itch, and when Jaebum lets his body sink back into the bed, the blankets pooling around his hips, it only gets worse. He can't tell if it's from the friction of the sheets against him or from the way it makes Jinyoung's scent envelop him.

Jaebum groans. He's been too stressed out to even think about touching himself for longer than he wants to think about, but it seems like his body is finally refusing his neglect. Every shift of his body makes him more aware of the heat pooling low in his belly. Even when he tries to keep still, he can feel how his cock pulses against his hip, trapped under the waistband of his pants.

It feels illicit, lying there in his wedding bed with his cock hard enough that he can feel it throbbing. Jinyoung could walk in at any moment and catch him, and the idea of getting caught, of Jinyoung seeing that vulnerable side of him, should be enough to make his erection go down.

Instead, his brain — his _stupid,_ hormone-addled brain — decides to fixate not on the shame of the scenario, but on Jinyoung himself. His pretty hands, his plush lips, his lithe body. It reminds Jaebum of his first impression of him; in another life, another time, he probably would have wooed Jinyoung on his own. Fuck, he's Jaebum's _type,_ even. He looks like a doll, like someone Jaebum would run his tongue over every inch of and suck bruises into delicate skin and hold as tight as he could even if he looks like he might break and —

Jaebum curses and rolls over on his front, burying his face in a pillow. That's not the life Jaebum is living. Jaebum doesn't get a choice in pursuing someone. Hell, Jaebum wouldn't be the one _doing_ the pursuing anyhow, would he?

In another life, though. Jinyoung's sharp tongue, fine features, perfect body. Jaebum imagines those discerning eyes turned on someone else, that sensual mouth turned up in a smirk as he whispers witty words out of the corner of it to someone, to _Jaebum,_ maybe even laughing _with_ Jaebum —

A gasp chokes its way out of Jaebum's throat and he realizes with a start that he's grinding down against the mattress, clinging to his pillow like a lifeline.

It's not his pillow, though.

Jaebum lies frozen, his hips twitching minutely with the need for more, his face buried in Jinyoung's pillow, emotions warring with desire inside him.

This is a bad idea, he tells himself. Even if it wasn't a bad idea to get off to the idea of his mate that he isn't even _friends_ with, it's certainly a bad idea to do it on the bed where Jinyoung — or, god forbid, Yugyeom or Bambam — could walk in on him.

"This is a bad idea," he mutters out loud to himself, even as he starts grinding down into the mattress again.

Jaebum had really hoped he would grow out of thinking with his dick as he got older, but his prospects aren't particularly promising. First Jieun and now _this —_ Jesus, doesn't he have any shame?

Apparently, the answer is no, because he gives in easily to the warmth that spreads through his middle. God, it's been so long since something just felt _good._ It's such a simple thing, touching himself, but it feels like something he's barred himself from since he presented. His mind has been too busy, abuzz with anxiety that kills any semblance of arousal, and the last times he _has_ managed to feel anything have all been tainted by his status — his humiliating presentation, the bite that claimed him as Jinyoung's, and then Jinyoung tending to his wound. All of them make his stomach twist painfully at the reminder of what he's become.

Then again, some small part of his mind thinks, Jinyoung taking care of the bite hadn't been the _worst_ thing. Jaebum can't tell if it's the hormones or the guilt that's been plaguing him since his conversation with Younghyun, but when he looks back at how gently Jinyoung had treated him, how carefully he'd taken Jaebum's comfort into consideration — it feels less shameful and more...something that Jaebum can't quite place.

But with his face buried in a pillow covered in alpha scent, Jaebum considers, it really could just be the hormones.

He already feels guilty enough about how he's been treating Jinyoung. There's no need for him to feel guilty over a quick jack off — if it can even be called that, with the way he's humping the mattress.

So he tamps down on the chattering thoughts in his brain and focuses instead on physical sensation — the way the waistband of his trousers rubs right under the sensitive head of his cock, the soft give of the mattress underneath him that almost feels like he's fucking into it.

The scent that feels like it's worked its way into his lungs and kindled something almost painfully hot there, a fire that's spreading through his gut and makes his fingers clench involuntarily in the pillowcase, twisting it tightly in his fists.

Against his better judgment, he shoves his face deeper into the pillow, inhaling greedily and groaning at the spike of heat it sends through him, his hips jerking into the mattress uncontrollably. He's missed having something uncomplicated in his life, something as easy as sinking his teeth into the pillow and fucking thoughtlessly down against the bed; there's no one to impress, no one judging his actions, no repercussions. Right now, there's just the pleasure of his cock trapped between his body and the mattress, the heat coursing through his veins, the scent clouding his mind.

And _fuck,_ it's good.

It takes him hardly any time to come in his pants, making a mess inside them. He can feel his own come, hot and wet against his cock as it pulses out, and it makes him whine as he chases the end of his orgasm, his hips twitching as he pushes down into the mattress. It satisfies an urge that Jaebum hadn't been aware was even there.

But as the haze from his orgasm fades, the reality of what he's done hits him. He's just come thinking about Jinyoung, almost choking on alpha scent, and it made him desperate enough to come in his pants while humping the mattress. It's the most... _omega_ thing he's done since he presented, and he wants to recoil from it. What the hell is Jinyoung doing to him?

Then again, is it really Jinyoung's doing? After all, there's no one else here in the room with Jaebum. Reality settles cold and heavy in the pit of his stomach, replacing the pleasant buzz of arousal from a minute ago. Maybe this is just who he is now — an omega who can't control himself at the scent of an alpha, who gets desperate enough to get off on grinding against the bed as long as his mouth and nose are clogged with that scent. Filled with it, his mind supplies, unbidden. Filled with alpha.

He rolls over on his back with a small displeased noise as the movement shifts the mess in his pants. Fuck, and now whoever collects the laundry is going to know what he's done. _Yugyeom or Bambam_ is going to know what he's done, and god, he really didn't need to think about the stupid knowing looks they're going to give him when they see him next.

He strips off his nightclothes and runs a damp towel over himself to clean as much as he can, then tries to use the washcloth to rub the mess out of his trousers. All he accomplishes is transferring some of it to the towel, and now he has to deal with two come-stained pieces of laundry. Perfect.

When he's arranged everything in as inconspicuous a pile as he can manage, he changes into clothes he can wear around the castle. Out of habit, he reaches for the thick woolen socks and the heavy cloak he's favored since he arrived in Cerisale, but then he remembers what his walk in the garden had been like. It'd be stupid of him to wear all the layers he’d started with and overheat himself.

Instead, he rifles through the drawers to find something lighter. There isn’t anything quite like the tunics he’d worn in Solune’s warmer weather, but he does find long, loose shirts that flow prettily around his body like water down a mountainside. Everything here seems to keep with the theme of the royal colors — varying shades of pink and red — but as he takes in his reflection in the mirror, Jaebum can’t complain about it. If he’s honest with himself, the red suits him more than the orange he’d always been accustomed to.

Suitably clothed, he sets out into the castle. He resists the urge to follow the familiar path to the library, opting to branch out and explore more. If he’s going to spend the rest of his life in this castle, then he should see more than three rooms. He should see four, at least.

So he follows the spiral staircase down from Jinyoung’s quarters — _their_ quarters — past the library and down the corridor that houses his old room. When he steps out into the entrance hall, he blinks in surprise.

Unexpectedly, the decorations from the wedding haven’t been taken down, at least not entirely. The reds have been removed, replaced by delicate pinks and whites that make the castle feel bright and open, especially with the windows allowing the newly warm spring sun to stream in. In fact, when Jaebum had arrived was the most drab he's seen the Cerisale castle; since then, it's been in a constant state of preparation or celebration.

He makes an undignified noise far too close to a scream when he feels arms wrap around him from behind in a vice-like grip.

"Look at you!" a familiar voice crows too loudly into his ear. "You look like one of us."

"Jackson," Jaebum says, trying not to growl the word out. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Don't be scared," Jackson replies. His grip around Jaebum's waist is unrelentingly tight, making it difficult to breathe. "We're _family,_ you can't be scared of me."

"We've been family for how many days?” Jaebum wheezes. "Give me some adjustment time."

" _No,_ that's _boring,_ " Jackson complains, but his grip on Jaebum loosens enough that he can breathe a little more easily. He doesn't stop holding Jaebum, though; in fact, he nuzzles his face behind Jaebum's ear in a startlingly intimate gesture and takes a deep whiff.

Before he even realizes what he's doing, Jaebum's elbowed Jackson back and off of him, curling in on himself and glaring at his brother-in-law. "What the hell was that?" Jaebum demands.

"Jesus," Jackson groans, clutching his ribs where Jaebum hit him. "I was just going to say it smells like you and Jinyoungie are finally getting along."

"What?" Jaebum snaps. He feels horribly on edge, like every nerve in his body is on high alert. He isn't sure why he's is reacting so strongly to Jackson's touch of all things, but it feels almost like an itch under his skin.

"I mean, I could tell you smelled different," Jackson explains. "That's why I followed you here. I mean, you're extra powerful right now anyway, but you also smell kind of like Jinyoungie now."

"We shared a bed," Jaebum says gruffly, wrapping his arms around himself and curling his hands into fists in the fabric of his shirt. "Nothing more."

"Hmm." Jackson looks at him with bright, curious eyes. "Smells like something more, though." He sniffs again. "You sure you didn't at least do like, quick handies under the covers or something?"

" _No,_ " Jaebum yelps. "Why would you — " It hits him then that...really, Jackson could be more wrong than he is. After all, Jaebum did get off while practically enrobed in Jinyoung's scent, wrapped in sheets drenched with his smell and burying his face in Jinyoung's pillow.

If Jackson can smell that on him, Jaebum thinks it might be time to leave the country, regardless of potential international incidents.

"Wait." Jackson's eyes widen before a grin that can only be described as lecherous stretches across his face. "Jaebum, c'mere."

"Why should I?" Jaebum asks, feeling slightly petulant.

"Because," Jackson replies, grabbing at Jaebum's elbow.

"That's not a reason," Jaebum grumbles even as he lets himself be pulled closer. There's something about Jackson's enthusiasm and cavalier attitude that makes it hard to resist him. Maybe it's those omega wiles Hongbin had mentioned before Jaebum left Solune.

"Just — let me smell you," Jackson says, already digging his nose behind Jaebum's ear.

"Sure, just go right ahead, why don't you?" Jaebum mutters, cringing back so far he can feel his neck folding into at least a triple chin.

"Don't mind if I do." Jackson's voice is muffled against Jaebum's skin, weirdly intimate and sending Jaebum's hair standing on end. He feels like a cat with hackles raised and he fights down a completely unreasonable urge to snap at Jackson, especially when he pulls back and gives Jaebum a smug, knowing look.

"Jaebummie," he sing-songs. "I didn't realize it at first because you smelled so different from sleeping with Jinyoung — "

"Don't say it like that," Jaebum interjects.

" — but I can tell when I get up in your business," Jackson continues as if Jaebum didn't say anything.

"And what can you tell?" Jaebum asks. "Can you tell I want you to back off?"

"I can tell you're about to go into heat," Jackson says gleefully.

Jackson's words feel like ice water over Jaebum's body, the playful rapport they have doing nothing to take the sting of reality out of the words.

" _What?_ " Jaebum's voice comes out as a painful croak.

Jackson gives him a sympathetic look. "It's your first one, right?" When Jaebum nods numbly, Jackson continues, "I guess it really isn't too surprising that it's coming. I mean, I'm pretty sure Jinyoung's rut is here too — part of why they had the wedding done so quickly, you know — "

"It is?" Jaebum is suddenly reminded of just how little he was consulted in all of this. "But...why?"

"It's a really good bonding experience," Jackson explains before snickering. "Ha, bonding experience. Get it?"

Jaebum blinks at him, unamused.

Jackson coughs awkwardly. "Anyway. It's like, generally after the bond bite, you're already pretty busy getting busy, you know?"

Jaebum thinks back to how his body had reacted to Jinyoung even with the anxiety he had surrounding the bond. "Yeah, I know."

"So having the rut come pretty shortly after that is just...practical, I guess." Jackson shrugs. “A good way to show trust in a new bond, you know?”

“What if I don’t trust him, though?” The question leaves Jaebum’s lips before he can even think about holding it back.

Jackson frowns. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“But why should I?” Jaebum counters. “I hardly know him, he’s practically a stranger — ”

“Still?” Jackson furrows his brow in genuine confusion. “Why?”

“Because — ” Jaebum struggles for words. How does he explain this to Jackson, who’s married to his childhood love?

How does he explain it to himself, in light of the conversation he’s had with Younghyun and the newfound guilt that plagues his thoughts whenever they land on Jinyoung?

Jaebum swallows hard. “Because we still haven’t talked much,” he settles on saying. “And — and the only real physical contact we’ve had is the...you know.” He gestures at his back to indicate the bite.

“Well.” Jackson looks at him thoughtfully. “That’ll change soon, then.”

The emotions that tumble through Jaebum’s chest at Jackson’s words are tangled and hard to identify. There’s the immediate revulsion, the resistance he’s had to the idea of omega biology since he presented, the disconnect between who he always thought he was and what his body has become; the embarrassment at the fact that Jackson is standing here talking about it so brazenly; the fear that this is what everything has been leading up to.

But then there’s another part of him, more instinctual and less driven by the anxiety skittering across the surface of his thoughts, that drags up the warm memory of that morning. If it felt that good on his own with nothing but his alpha’s scent, it whispers, how good would it feel with Jinyoung’s body on top of his, his hands on Jaebum’s waist, his mouth on —

Jaebum gives his head a vigorous shake.

Jackson looks at him warily. “You good there?”

“What if — what if I’m not ready?” Jaebum asks. His head feels fuzzy, and he realizes it’s not just from fear or worry like it had been when he first arrived in Cerisale; there’s something more to it, something purely physical, connected to the way every inch of his skin feels hyperaware and pulled tight over his body.

“Your body will be ready,” Jackson says, probably trying to be reassuring. “The heat will do basically all the work for you — ”

“No, I don’t mean my body, I mean — _me,_ ” Jaebum says. “I — I don’t think I can spend my heat with Jinyoung. I’m just — the bite was already so much — ”

“But you can’t just spend it alone,” Jackson says, sounding doubtful.

“Why not?” Jaebum challenges. “I have two hands that will serve me just fine, thanks.”

“Not...really, no,” Jackson says slowly.

“What do you mean, not really?” Jaebum asks, ruffled. “You don’t know anything about my hands — ”

“It has nothing to do with your hands, Jaebum,” Jackson interrupts him. “That’s just...not how heats work.”

“How do they work, then?” Jaebum asks, torn between being disgruntled at Jackson knowing more than him and embarrassed that he knows so little about his own biology.

“It’s — I mean it’s called a heat for a reason, right?” Jackson says. “Your body gets warmer, and if you’re bonded or in close proximity to an alpha, it just gets that much stronger.”

“Okay, so it’s just more intense,” Jaebum says. “I can handle that, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is, though,” Jackson insists. “When I say your body gets warmer, that’s not a healthy thing. It’s a big deal because it’s basically a fever, and you wouldn’t just leave a fever untreated, right?”

“It — it can’t be that dangerous,” Jaebum says, but it comes out weak.

“Especially because you’re not regular yet.” Jackson looks worried now that Jaebum’s aired his dissent, wringing his hands in a way that would look hilariously motherly on such a young man if Jaebum felt like he could laugh at anything right now. “We have no idea how strong your body’s reaction will be — ”

“We?” Jaebum repeats with a raised eyebrow. “I’d think something like a heat would just be my business.”

“We’re family, Jaebum,” Jackson says, sounding insulted. “If it’s something that could hurt you, it’s all of our business now.”

Jaebum’s mouth is already open to retort, but it snaps shut and he swallows hard. He feels...stupidly emotional at the idea of being part of a system like that, a family like Jackson keeps saying. His blood family couldn’t even handle him presenting as an omega at all, but now there’s a crowd of...slightly nosy and overly familiar, sure, but seemingly kind people who consider his heat not a problem to be solved, but a bridge to cross together. To Jaebum’s horror, he can feel sentiment welling up in his chest, and he beats it back down.

It must be the heat making him so absurdly emotional and vulnerable.

“Plus, it’s Jinyoungie’s first rut as a bonded alpha,” Jackson muses. “It’d be safer for you both to be together.”

“But I don’t know how to — ” Jaebum feels his face burn with shame. “I can’t...handle an alpha during rut.”

Jackson snorts. “I mean, it’s just Jinyoung, but with like, a massive boner. He’s not going to hurt you or anything.”

“How do you know that?” Jaebum asks, but even as he asks, he can hear Jinyoung’s words in his mind — _I'm not sitting here planning how to hurt you._ The guilt hits him again, as if it’s just waiting to punch him in the gut whenever Jinyoung is mentioned.

Jaebum doesn’t know what part of himself to believe anymore. He doesn’t know what part is actually _himself._

“I think,” Jackson says carefully, “that we both know that. At least on some level.”

Jaebum turns away from Jackson, pretending to examine the silk banners hung from the ceiling. “So that’s it, then,” he says dully. “That’s just the way it has to be.”

Jackson makes a small, sympathetic noise. “I mean, you don’t have to actually...do stuff. But having your alpha there and scenting him and maybe letting him touch your bond bite — you felt when he tended to it, right? How good it made you feel?”

Jaebum gives a tiny nod. He can’t really deny how much his body had reacted to Jinyoung’s touch, especially in that particular spot.

“It’ll calm down the part of you that goes a little crazy with heat,” Jackson says. “So you guys can literally just...chill out and sniff each other and have him give you back rubs or whatever.”

“That sounds too easy,” Jaebum says suspiciously.

Jackson shrugs. “I mean, the thing is, you’re probably not going to want just back rubs. It’s not like it’s going to make you spread your legs for anyone with a knot, but...anything that’s already there is just going to get amplified like crazy, you know?”

“There isn’t anything there,” Jaebum says mulishly, even as he feels himself flush at the thought of how he’d started off his day.

Jackson scans him up and down and then flashes him a smile that knows far too much. “Whatever you say, Jaebummie.”

Jaebum doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know if there's anything he can say.

 

 

* * *

  

 

It would be much easier to be angry at Jinyoung for the prospect of spending a heat with him if Jaebum saw him at all.

Instead, it seems like Jinyoung has pulled a remarkable disappearing act, far enough away that Jaebum couldn’t even find him by scent unless he scoured the castle for him. And while Jaebum might be struggling with how he views Jinyoung, he certainly hasn’t reached a point yet where he wants to seek him out for — what, keeping Jaebum company?

The thought is ridiculous. Jaebum would be better off with Younghyun or — actually, Younghyun is about it. He's reached his Jackson interaction quota for the day and Jaebum is just waiting for the day Hakyeon truly sends him over the edge and into a mental break he'll never return from. Mark is uncharted territory, a challenge to embark on some other day when Jaebum can't already feel the sticky tendrils of heat starting to wind through his gut.

Now that Jackson's pointed it out, Jaebum is having a hard time ignoring all the signs his body has been giving him. The way he'd acted that morning made more sense now; of course, an omega in heat would respond like that to an alpha's proximity, especially if that alpha was going into rut like Jackson said.

It's odd, Jaebum thinks, that he has very little real understanding of what rut entails, considering that his best friend back in Solune was an alpha. It's always felt distant, in the same way that heats did — raw, animalistic, something intensely private and almost shameful. The word _rut_ alone conjures up images of bared teeth and nails raking against skin like claws, more like a beast than a human.

But when Jaebum tries to overlay these images on Jinyoung's pretty features, his honeyed voice — they melt away like snow in the sun, as if they can't withstand Jinyoung's warmth.

Jaebum groans, digging the heels of his hands against his closed eyes as if that will make anything clearer. Maybe — maybe Jinyoung just feels like Jaebum does right now. An itch under his skin like he's starting to sweat, except it's been present for too long to be that; every sense heightened, leaving him overwhelmed and unable to process any of them properly; and beneath it all, a sort of aching longing, not just for...what heats are known for, obviously, but for something more. Closeness, maybe. The desire to be wrapped up in someone else and try to force two bodies into one, maybe, if Jaebum lets himself linger on it.

He tries not to.

His body doesn't give him much of a choice, though. Even as he holes himself up in the library again out of habit, seeking old comfort, there's a steady swirling in his gut like his insides are clenching, burning, begging for something that Jaebum doesn't want to think about. It only grows steadily despite Jaebum's best attempts to ignore it. He finds his fingers trembling when he turns the pages of books his brain doesn't process, written words glancing off the surface of his troubled mind like skipping stones.

He doesn't allow the urges roiling through him to coalesce into proper thoughts — he fears that if he lets them, he'll find himself dancing too close to images he's been skirting around since Jinyoung bit him. Even the way his body seems to crave intimacy with his mate is enough to make him want to curl in on himself in shame; he can't imagine if he let himself take it further, let his mind give detail and breathe life into fantasies that feel like they should belong to someone else.

He can feel it though, the very literal aspect of heat that Jackson mentioned — the way his body is wracked with shivers even when he pulls out a thicker robe and sits in a patch of sunlight in the library. Sweat beads on his brow, trickles uncomfortably down his spine and further still. Too close, too reminiscent of things Jaebum doesn't want to acknowledge.

Still, he can't help the way his body behaves during heat. The first rush of slick between his legs feels foreign, unlike anything he's experienced before. It's not like when he'd been with Jieun, when it had been a natural response to arousal. It's not like when Jinyoung had touched him either; while he hadn't been turned on the same way with Jinyoung, there had undeniably been _something_ there, some biological pull that drove his body to do... _that._

Now, though, even if Jaebum seats himself in one of the library chairs and makes himself stare at a book on disease and medicine, complete with gory figures, he feels wetness continue to seep through his pants, making the insides of his thighs rub slickly against each other whenever he shifts his weight. It's not like an erection, or at least not a normal one that he can will away with unsavory thoughts.

He wonders how Jinyoung's dealing with this, if he's dealing with it in the same way. If alphas' ruts and knots feel like someone else has taken the reins of his body and is commandeering it to need in a deep aching way he's never experienced before.

For the first time, he wonders if Jinyoung was as scared during his first rut as Jaebum is right now.

Through it all, as his body is overtaken with burning heat, his own scent gets stronger, no longer tempered by Jinyoung's. It hits him in waves, so thick and saccharine he can practically feel it filling his lungs like molasses, making him want to retch.

If it's this overwhelming to himself, Jaebum doesn't want to think about how strong it is to everyone else.

But even though the scent of omega in heat must permeate the air all throughout the East Tower, easy to track for anyone who ventures up the staircase, no one bothers Jaebum. Jinyoung must be avoiding even his own rooms to stay away.

Jaebum should be pleased about this. He should be grateful that Jinyoung isn’t forcing expectations onto him, isn’t pushing into his space and clouding Jaebum’s thoughts with his scent and his presence and making demands of him. This is everything Jaebum could have asked for, really.

But it leaves Jaebum feeling oddly cold in a way completely separate from his quickly rising temperature. He can’t quite place it until Nora wanders into the library and jumps into his lap, knocking the book he’s reading out of his hands to settle herself. Without thinking, he leans forward and buries his face in her fur, making soothing noises at her when she lets out a chirp of surprise.

He doesn’t know if it’s his scent or his shaking hands or something else that only cats can sense, but something about him makes Nora leap off his lap at his touch, eyeing him warily before she scampers away. Jaebum is left with the echo of warmth against him, of companionship when he’s at his most vulnerable.

One night, Jaebum thinks. One night sharing a bed is all it took for him to become painfully aware of how much he’s missed being close to people. Maybe it had all started with the bite, with Jinyoung’s teeth digging into him, marking him irreversibly as an omega. Maybe it’s just biology fucking Jaebum over again.

But when Jaebum’s control slips and his thoughts start to have a mind of their own, it’s not the bite that they gravitate toward. It’s the tender way Jinyoung had lapped at his wound, the way his tongue had been gentle around the jagged, painful edges — it both feeds the hunger Jaebum has for closeness and whets his appetite for it, making his fingers curl unconsciously with the desire to hold and be held.

By the time the day ends, Jaebum realizes his heat must be in full swing. He can barely stagger up the stairs to their quarters, his knees wobbling like gelatin as if he’s run miles instead of parked his ass in a library chair for a full day.

If Jaebum wasn’t sure that his heat had come, he can’t deny it when he steps into their quarters and is reminded again of how Jinyoung’s scent saturates every part of the room, is soaked into the bedding and the air itself. It hits him like he’s been socked in the stomach, a gasp leaving his lips as he doubles over. He _needs —_ what, he isn’t sure, but it drives him to stumble to the bed and collapse on the sheets.

He doesn’t have the presence of mind to make excuses anymore, not even to himself. He can’t convince himself that he’s lying there because of exhaustion or because he wants to rest, not when his hands reach for Jinyoung’s pillow like he’s a man drowning and it’s a lifeline, not when he shoves his face into it again just like that morning and groans like he’s coming just from that.

But it’s just like the thoughts that plagued him in the library — memories, ghosts of sensations he only barely knows, only enough to feed the flames starting to burn hot enough in his gut that when he presses his hips into the mattress he can’t tell if it’s pain or pleasure that shoots through him.

In the morning, he could blame the way he’d gotten off to Jinyoung’s scent on being half-asleep, not conscious enough to realize what he was doing. Now, as he grabs his own pillow and shoves it under his hips while keeping his face buried in Jinyoung’s, Jaebum is keenly aware of his every movement, of what it means — but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when Jinyoung’s scent is like a match to kindling, not when there’s a burning pleasure-pain that makes him whine whenever he thrusts against the pillow between his thighs.

Jaebum comes almost without realizing it. It doesn’t bring any of the relief he associates with orgasm; instead, his cock is left hard, even as he grinds down into his own come, smearing it across the inside of his pants and making it seep into the pillow. He can feel the wetness dripping down from his ass, making everything between his legs slick, mingling with his come in a mess that he can’t stop thrusting into.

It’s not enough. Jaebum finds himself lapping at the pillowcase, as if he might be able to taste Jinyoung there. He groans in frustration when he gets nothing but the clean taste of laundry, pushing his nose into it again and inhaling so deeply he almost chokes on the fabric. He fumbles at the front of his trousers with unsteady fingers. When he can’t get a hold of the fastenings, he gives up and shoves his hand down the front, ignoring how the waistband digs into his wrist in favor of whining at the relief of a hand on himself.

But even that isn’t as satisfying as it usually is. It isn’t the physical sensation that’s the problem; it’s something in Jaebum’s mind, that hunger for closeness, as if trying to satisfy this urge on his own just emphasizes how inadequate it is.

He tries to keep his thoughts vague, focuses solely on the scent and the feel of his own palm sliding wetly against his cock, dripping with come and slick; but the longer Jaebum is left alone, the more irrational his brain becomes. He catches himself imagining Jinyoung's touch — not in any particularly sexual way, despite the fact that he’s touching himself. Just the firm press of a palm against the bite on his back, Jaebum's nose pressed into the soft skin of Jinyoung's throat.

The thought of those simple touches is enough to make him come again. It's still unsatisfying, but it takes enough of the edge off that he can drift off to sleep and escape his body for a little while.

When he wakes, he can’t bring himself to leave the bed. It’s not like the tingling itch under his skin from yesterday; it feels like a proper fever now, like his body is fighting against something he can’t see. His cock is hard and his ass is wet and he can’t tell where the pain is stemming from, or if his entire body is just one unrelenting, bruise-like ache.

He remembers Jackson's words. _You wouldn’t just leave a fever untreated, right?_ Jaebum realizes the way his thoughts are scattered and his body shakes and burns probably has less to do with hormones and more to do with the very real heat that has him snaking the blankets around him for warmth as much as for Jinyoung’s scent.

Jaebum doesn't know what to think anymore. He shouldn't be thinking, not with everything he's been told about heats and the way his mind feels slow and thick with arousal; but even so, there's a current of anxious energy running through his brain, a part of his body that he thought would be shut off by now.

Instead, it's like his body and his mind are in concert, a hellish cacophony of low-grade panic and pain that leave Jaebum feeling like there's something crawling under his skin and no way to get it out.

Well. There's a way. There's definitely a way, and Jaebum is losing his battle in trying not to think about it. How can he fight against it when his brain rewards him with a flood of pleasure at the mere thought of Jinyoung's mouth on his bite?

It goes beyond fantasizing, though; beyond images of physical satisfaction and convenient shots of pleasure to get him off. It worms its way between his thoughts and whispers insidious little questions that Jaebum doesn't want to ask, let alone answer.

But when he's curled up in bed, alone for the second night as his heat makes him groan as he presses his thighs together and feels the wetness sliding between them, he can't stop himself from wondering — where is Jinyoung? Why isn't he here? Omegas in heat are supposed to be irresistible and alphas in rut aren't supposed to be able to control themselves, so why is Jaebum alone with a fever wearing away at his mind and body and panic building in his chest?

He loses track of if he's even coming anymore. He lies there for a time that he can't measure, rutting against the mattress, the pillow, his hands, mindless and desperate. It chafes, no matter how wet he is with come and the slick that's pouring out of him and staining the sheets, but that pain is better than doing nothing. He drifts in and out of consciousness, but no sleep he gets is restful, snatching meager hours of shut-eye that do nothing to combat the way his body seems to be giving in on itself.

He's woken up on the third day by the door to their room banging open.

Thankfully, Jaebum was asleep instead of getting caught with his hand down his pants, but it's a small mercy. The entire room must reek of sweat and come and needy omega.

Jaebum scrambles to sit up, wrapping the blankets around his waist. As if that would hide anything. As if whoever's at the door doesn't know exactly what's been happening in this room.

Especially given that it's Jinyoung and Jackson. If Jinyoung is anywhere near as sensitive to Jaebum's scent as Jaebum is to his, then stepping into this room must be almost like walking face-first into a brick wall. And Jackson — well, Jackson clearly knows plenty about heats and what happens during them.

"See?" Jackson demands, sounding angrier than Jaebum's ever heard him. The aggression sounds unnatural coming from someone that Jaebum has only ever seen be rather easy-going and positive.

Jaebum doesn't realize that Jackson isn't addressing him until Jinyoung responds defensively, "I — I didn't know. How was I supposed to know?"

"Because I _told_ you, dipshit," Jackson snaps.

"I thought it was better this way," Jinyoung tries to argue, but any bite is taken out of his voice from the way he can't take his eyes off Jaebum and how his fists are clenched tightly at his side.

Jaebum can smell the rush of pheromones off of him as he takes in an omega in heat. It's so much more potent than his lingering scent on sheets and pillows, and Jaebum has to fight down the groan that tries to tear through his chest.

"Go do your duty," Jackson commands, sounding authoritative in a way that sends Jaebum's head spinning. "And be grateful he's still okay."

"Shut up," Jinyoung mutters, but it's cut off by Jackson stepping back and closing the door so fast it almost hits Jinyoung's backside.

Jaebum stares at Jinyoung as reality and fantasy war in his mind. With his mate standing right in front of him, Jaebum is suddenly hit by a wave of shame that he's been humping pillows to the thought of a person he's now making eye contact with. Hell, Jinyoung _knows_ that. There's no way he doesn't, especially given how his nostrils flare and his jaw clenches visibly.

But still, even as Jaebum struggles with the fact that Jinyoung is actually a real person outside of his jerk-off fantasies the past couple days, he has to deal with another reality — the fact that the Jinyoung standing in front of him and the Jinyoung whose scent has filled Jaebum's head with reckless, filthy thoughts are one and the same.

Jaebum's brain is too fever-addled to be dealing with this.

“So,” Jaebum says stiffly, painfully aware of the magnetic draw between them even as Jinyoung stands unmoving in the doorway. “Where have you been?”

Jinyoung shrugs and Jaebum can see the tension in his shoulders. “Library.”

Jaebum feels more betrayed than he should at the idea of Jinyoung lying to him. "I was there," he says. "Not yesterday, but before — "

“A different one,” Jinyoung clarifies. “Because Jackson mentioned that he met you in my — the East Tower library. And I didn’t want you to think I was...cornering you, I guess.”

Jaebum swallows drily, unsure of how to respond. "Thank you," he croaks, aware that he should be grateful. But although he says the words, they don't ring true. He can't be grateful for the past two days spent with his body tearing itself apart and panic gnawing at the insides of his head.

Jinyoung just shrugs again, still refusing to meet Jaebum’s eyes. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize you probably wouldn’t want an alpha going into rut near you.” He laughs, but there’s no humor to it. His eyes don’t crinkle. “Especially me.”

"I — I have no fucking clue what I want," Jaebum whispers, practically unable to hear himself over the buzz that's still ringing through his mind. He swallows hard before admitting, "I can't think, it — it hurts."

"What does?" Jinyoung asks immediately, his words taking on a protective tone. It's the same one he'd used when Jaebum had made snide remarks about Jackson, except this time — this time, Jinyoung wants to protect _him._

Jaebum wasn't ready for how good that alone makes him feel. He almost wants to purr at the content feeling of being...not claimed, exactly. Welcomed, maybe. Wanted.

"Everything," he says, the word spilling easily over his lips. Anything to get more of that sweet feeling that Jinyoung wants to help him, that Jaebum _matters_ to him.

"What can I do?" Jinyoung asks, his feet already taking faltering steps toward Jaebum. "I — I don't want to do anything you don't want to do."

Jaebum breathes deeply. It's odd. Completely different from how frenzied he's been over the past couple days just from the smell of Jinyoung's pillow, having Jinyoung here in front of him is almost soothing, like balm on a burn.

Or like Jinyoung's mouth on his bite.

"Just...come here," Jaebum says finally. "I think I just — I just want you close." It isn’t as hard to admit that as he’d expected. He can’t tell if it’s the heat clouding his thoughts or...something else.

That’s something to worry about later.

Right now, Jaebum focuses on how Jinyoung’s steps toward him are hesitant, jerky where Jinyoung is usually so fluid and controlled, as if he’s having a hard time holding back.

Maybe he’s hurting too, Jaebum thinks. But then Jinyoung is at the bed, perching himself carefully on top of the covers and holding out a wary hand, and Jaebum doesn’t bother thinking anymore.

He shifts on the bed, an undignified mix between a crawl and a full-body wriggle, so that his head is facing Jinyoung, and he pushes his face against his waiting palm, letting out a shaky exhale at the touch.

A soft _oh_ falls from Jinyoung’s lips, and Jaebum looks up with bleary eyes to see Jinyoung’s mouth open in surprise, his eyes wide and gentle.

Oh. Jaebum was probably supposed to give Jinyoung his hand, not...his entire face.

Before Jaebum can feel embarrassed, though, Jinyoung’s palm molds to the curve of his cheek, warm and buttery soft like he’s never had to work a day in his life, so different from Jaebum’s own hands, callused from sparring and climbing. His fingers trace over the strong curve of Jaebum’s brow, dance over the moles at the corner of his eye, push a strand of hair behind his ear.

Jaebum whines. He hasn’t been touched like this in so long, and now his body is burning with heat, leaving him defenseless against his own desire.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung murmurs, his voice sounding choked. “God — ” His hand travels down the back of Jaebum’s neck, hesitating in its path when it nears the bite. “Can I?”

Jaebum doesn’t even question it before he’s nodding. He can’t tell if it’s just because the heat is making him want his mate close or if it’s a deeper need that has less to do with biology and more to do with loneliness; but either way, the promise of Jinyoung’s touch against their bond bite, with the memory of how pleasure had rushed through him the last time, is too good to pass up.

When Jinyoung’s palm presses against the bite this time, there’s still pleasure and arousal, but it’s overwhelmed by the wave of relief that washes over Jaebum. He can feel the anxiety that’s been building in him for days rush out of him, and he falls limply against the mattress.

Jaebum had gotten used to the constant tension, the way his muscles were all clenched with panic to the point of pain; but his mate’s touch against his mark speaks to some instinctual part of his brain. _Safe, safe, safe_ runs through his mind, chasing down the spiraling thoughts of fear and silencing them, leaving him in a blissful peace where he’s aware of nothing but the soothing rub of Jinyoung’s palm warm and firm against his back.

Jinyoung makes a small, sad noise. “Have you been...tense like that all this time?” When Jaebum nods, Jinyoung grimaces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I just — Jackson said it could get bad, but none of us have ever seen that, because Jackson — well, you can imagine how Jackson would be, you know, during heat — ”

Jaebum groans. “No talking about Jackson,” he rasps. “Not while — ” His mouth snaps shut as he realizes he’s about to say _not while my dick’s still hard._

Then again, that presence of mind isn’t something he’s had for days now. The fact that Jinyoung’s touch is making the feverish haze in his mind dissipate to the point that he has a semblance of a filter again lends credence to Jackson’s words from a few days ago — _it’ll calm down the part of you that goes a little crazy with heat._

It had seemed backward to him at the time. He’d thought that having an alpha close would trigger a cascade that would only worsen his heat, but now he sees what Jackson meant. With the anxiety receding and his body calming in response to Jinyoung’s touch, he’s starting to feel less like he’s ill and more like he’s...just stupidly horny, if he’s honest with himself.

Stupidly horny and stupidly exhausted. Both of which are ridiculous, considering that he's spent the past two days doing nothing but jerking off and sleeping. But his brain feels fuzzy in a way that’s familiar now, as opposed to alien and terrifying.

“Can I lie down with you?” Jinyoung asks. “I — I haven’t really...had a bed. Because, you know, libraries don’t really have beds.”

“What?” Jaebum asks thickly. While he’s more himself, he’s still tired and out of sorts enough that Jinyoung’s words are taking a while to process. That, and there’s still enough of his blood apportioned to the lower half of his body that his brain is having a hard time keeping up with conversation.

“I’m just...tired, you know,” Jinyoung says, and Jaebum can see his free hand knotted nervously in the blankets.

“Wait,” Jaebum asks slowly, thinking back on his past few days. “Did you — does that mean you jerked off in a library?”

Jinyoung’s ears are bright red. “I — can I just lie down with you?”

“Oh my god,” Jaebum whispers. “You did.” He thinks if he wasn’t in heat right now, he’d find the thought of Jinyoung touching himself in a public space because he was scared of confronting his mate hilarious, or at least amusing. As it is, his mind is stuck on Jinyoung touching himself at all, and the idea of him being desperate enough to do so in a place he could get caught makes Jaebum feel like his brain is about to short-circuit.

And it’s because of Jaebum.

Jaebum has always loved the feeling of being desired. Back in Solune, he preened whenever visiting nobility or even people around the palace gave him that unmistakable look of want. Now, with heat magnifying it, it feels better than any conquest Jaebum has had before. When Jinyoung settles beside him on the bed, Jaebum can smell it on him, how badly Jinyoung wants him.

It’s a head rush that Jaebum hadn’t realized he missed. Ever since he presented, the idea of someone wanting him has felt laughable. Stripped of who he’d thought he was, shipped away from the only home he’s ever known, foisted off on someone else so his family wouldn’t have to deal with him — Jaebum has felt like a burden and plague for so long that this irrefutable proof that anyone could want him feels like he’s both finding his old self and becoming liberated from it at the same time.

Before he can stop himself, Jaebum surges forward, burying his face in Jinyoung’s neck, ignoring the way Jinyoung’s entire body goes immediately stiff and he bites off a curse.

Jaebum had thought he was ready, but nothing could really prepare him for the way Jinyoung’s scent sends heat shooting down his spine and through his gut.

No wonder he was so unsatisfied these past few days, he thinks as he feels the heat start to seep back through his body, less like a fever and more like actual want this time. How could Jaebum possibly be satisfied with pillows and blankets when this is what his body wanted?

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung says, and the words sound like they’re sticking in his throat, thick and deep and almost a growl if they weren’t so thoroughly stripped of any sort of threat. There’s a faint strain to his voice, as if he’s holding himself back. “Don’t — don’t do anything you wouldn’t want to...outside of this.”

Jaebum should think about the consequences. He should think about what it’ll be like to wake up tomorrow and have to face Jinyoung when neither of them is aroused. He should think about what precedent will be set if he does something now. He should think about any number of things, especially since it’s felt like he hasn’t been able to _stop_ thinking since he presented.

Instead, the only thing Jaebum thinks is _fuck it._

And with that, he throws a leg over Jinyoung’s hip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, it's been a hot minute, huh? i know this update came more slowly than the ones before, but don't worry, i'm not abandoning the fic! life has been super busy - i got a new job that's sapping up all my energy and feeding my anxiety, and my days off are few and far between; plus, a friend just moved in and we're getting them settled in; and then on top of all that, my dumbass body had to ahead and get sick on me :| i've also just been really fuckin nervous about this chapter in particular, because it's the lead-up to one of the formative scenes i thought of when i first came up with the au, so i didn't want to fuck it up ><
> 
> my updates might continue to be a little slower until i get my life running smoothly again, but i hope you guys will continue to be as wonderfully patient as you have been! i know i say this constantly, but i appreciate all your comments and messages so much. they keep me motivated and inspired! ♡


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Jaebum registers is that Jinyoung's cock is hard when it brushes against his thigh.

Jaebum clumsily angles his hips to line them up, greedy for the feeling of Jinyoung pulsing against him, for irrefutable proof of how much Jinyoung must want him.

"Jaebum," Jinyoung gasps as if he's swearing. His voice isn't thick and smooth anymore, roughened by lack of sleep and arousal — all because of Jaebum. He basks in it, revels in how all it takes is an uncoordinated pump of his hips, practically shoving himself against his mate, for Jinyoung's hands to fly to his waist and grip so tightly in his shirt that Jaebum can feel his nails even through the fabric. "Jaebum, you need — "

"More," Jaebum growls, hardly recognizing himself. He can't think of the last time he felt this good, isn't even sure that he _has_ felt this good before. There's no room for thought. Everything is reduced to simple conditioning, like a dog salivating at a bell — shoving his face into Jinyoung's neck, greedily inhaling his scent, grinding their cocks together through their clothing all gives Jaebum a shock of pleasure that only makes him want more.

And Jinyoung's gasp turning into a deep groan that's almost a growl? It only makes Jaebum's fingers more desperate as they claw at Jinyoung's shirt. An answering whine rises in Jaebum's throat, nonverbal but apparently understandable, because Jinyoung's hands aren't hesitant anymore as one grabs Jaebum's thigh, fingertips digging in so hard that Jaebum swears he can feel it in his bones.

Jaebum pushes against Jinyoung, and even though he makes a surprised sound, Jinyoung lets Jaebum roll him over onto his back so Jaebum can throw a leg over his hips.

It satisfies a deep, animalistic part of Jaebum's brain, being this close to Jinyoung. He can smell the arousal rolling off of him in waves, thick and heady, and Jaebum shoves his face into the crook of Jinyoung's neck. It shouldn't be so good, the way he's draped himself over Jinyoung and is rutting against his thigh; but Jinyoung's scent has seeped into him and made his blood feel like whiskey burning like fire through his body, and even this mostly-clothed grinding makes arousal pulse through him so intensely he can hardly see straight.

Jinyoung groans, sounding pained, but his grip on Jaebum is harsh, fingers clawing at Jaebum's hips to help him thrust down into him. He's not any steadier than Jaebum, though, and their rhythm is as sloppy as it is wild. Jaebum thinks he can feel where the press of Jinyoung's hipbones against his own is going to bruise, but he can't stop himself from pushing harder, faster. It's as though his body is so starved for stimulation or touch of any kind that even the pain registers as some sort of relief, wires crossed in his brain and leaving him gasping for nails sinking into his thighs and the painful crush of bodies too close and too forceful.

It's when Jinyoung's hand slips, jolted by the desperate jerk of Jaebum's hips, sending his nails raking down Jaebum's thigh so harshly that it stings even through his loose trousers, that Jaebum comes. It pulls a snarl out of Jinyoung and he grabs at Jaebum, pulling him down against his front. Jaebum is pinned there, thighs trembling around Jinyoung's hips as he comes in his pants.

Jinyoung swears, his arms wrapping around Jaebum's waist, thrusting up against him in quick, tight jerks of his hips. Even though he's just come, Jaebum chases the feeling, squirming against Jinyoung's front. It's not so different from how he's been fucking down against the mattress, but now Jinyoung is there, fucking back up into him. Jaebum is still hard, his body still straining for more, begging wordlessly.

The way Jinyoung is thrusting up against him has Jaebum jolting up the mattress, up Jinyoung's body until his thrusts are grinding his cock less against Jaebum's front and more between his thighs. Through his trousers, Jaebum can feel the hard line of Jinyoung's cock, and the thickness alone makes him mewl. He's never cared before about size, never had something so large close to a place so vulnerable, but right now it's making him scrabble at the front of Jinyoung's shirt and pant heavily into his neck.

Jinyoung's hands slide down from Jaebum's back to his ass, holding him down so Jinyoung can grind against him. His cock drags against Jaebum's balls, his taint, everything so sensitive that the friction of the fabric makes him grunt in pain.

"Is this okay?" Jinyoung pants. "Your — god, your body is so fucking gorgeous, Jaebum — " His hands squeeze Jaebum's ass, feeling broad and strong.

The praise makes Jaebum rock back into Jinyoung's cock, not even minding how close it is to where — fuck, he's dripping again, the fabric of his pants, and probably Jinyoung's too, soaked through. It makes the drag of their clothing that much harsher, clinging to their skin.

For the first time, Jaebum doesn't mind the wetness itself. He _does_ mind the way their clothes stick to them. If only the clothing wasn't in the way, he thinks deliriously, he can just imagine the slick slide, the way it would make everything easier as they rutted against each other —

He can feel it when Jinyoung comes. The way he tenses underneath Jaebum, the groans that punch their way past his gritted teeth that match each pulse of his cock against Jaebum's ass. His scent grows even stronger and Jaebum finds himself lapping at Jinyoung's pulse point, sucking and teething at the soft skin like he can taste Jinyoung's scent there if he tries hard enough. It's that drive to be close again, to feel the way every muscle of Jinyoung's body clenches, hear every little hitching gasp and moan, taste how good Jaebum makes him feel.

"Me too," he hears himself panting. "Me too, wanna — Jinyoung — "

"What?" Jinyoung groans. His hands on Jaebum's ass aren't pinning him there anymore. Instead, they're petting, stroking, making Jaebum feel like a spoiled cat. So he arches his back, pressing his chest closer to Jinyoung's until he can feel their hearts pounding against each other. "What do you want?"

"Come," Jaebum manages, rubbing his face against Jinyoung's throat and jaw and nipping at his ear. "Wanna come again — _alpha_ — "

Jinyoung makes a noise like he’s been punched and he turns his face into Jaebum's, crushing their lips together in an uncoordinated jumble. Their mouths are both too open, too slack, and Jaebum swears he can taste coppery blood from their teeth clashing at the start of the kiss, but he can't imagine wanting anything more.

One of Jinyoung's hands works its way around to Jaebum's front, cupping his cock through his pants. If Jaebum hadn't already been resting all his weight on Jinyoung, he would've collapsed then. He hasn't been touched in so long, and Jinyoung's hand is so warm, so big, the heel of his palm pressing deliciously right under the head of Jaebum's cock like he already knows how Jaebum likes it.

"Come again, then," Jinyoung moans into Jaebum's mouth. He doesn't even stop kissing him, simply speaks the words against Jaebum's lips, his own catching on Jaebum's chin and leaving a sheen of spit there. "Come as much as you want — fuck, take anything you want, _Jaebum —_ "

Jaebum swallows Jinyoung's words, his moans, drags his teeth along Jinyoung's fat lower lip. He can feel Jinyoung everywhere — his palm pressed hard against the line of his cock, the wet heat of his mouth, the curve of his body underneath Jaebum's. He's still pressing up against Jaebum even though he's already come. He probably feels the same way Jaebum does, that hunger for closeness gnawing at his core even beyond the heady burn of arousal.

Jinyoung wants him, so badly that his entire body is reaching out and responding to Jaebum, and it's that fact that sends Jaebum over the edge again. It's still so overwhelming, just like every other physical sensation he's dealt with this heat. He's shaking apart in Jinyoung's arms, rutting against him like an animal, like he can shove himself closer than they already are, like he wants to be in Jinyoung and surrounded by him and suffocate himself on that thick, heady scent that has Jaebum salivating and making their kiss so wet and lewd it sounds like fucking.

It's a blur, but an easy blur. Like being drunk, Jaebum thinks as he sinks into Jinyoung. He's not sated, but he's tired, and finally his body is letting something other than clawing, clamoring need take control. He's not really aware of anything except the tangle of sheets around his legs, the sweltering heat of Jinyoung's body against his, and the press of Jinyoung's nose into his hairline. He thinks he can hear the hum of a voice, unclear words, but it just adds to the thick feeling of sleepiness gathering behind his eyes, dragging them closed.

The last thing Jaebum does before he falls asleep is press his face into sweet warmth and breathe as deeply as he can.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's sweltering. Jaebum can feel sweat dripping down his neck and beading on his back, but he finds it doesn't really bother him that much. He can't bring himself to care about the heat when every time he breathes in, there's a thick sweetness that seeps into him and chases out the tension in his body. He pushes closer to the scent, his nose sliding against sweat-damp skin and drawing a soft gasp from above him —

Jaebum freezes, shock pouring like ice over him in painful contrast to the lazy, warm contentedness he'd just been basking in.

Jinyoung must be awake. He's aware of the way Jaebum's tensed in his arms, if the way his heart is pounding against Jaebum's arm is any indication. They're stuck at an impasse, neither one eager to make the first move as reality comes crashing back in.

Finally, Jaebum's mind connects to his body again and he jerks back, disentangling their limbs and almost falling off the mattress in his haste to get away. He avoids Jinyoung's gaze even though he can feel it on him, heavy and expectant.

Moving draws Jaebum's attention to his body again, and now that he's awake and not gagging on alpha scent, he realizes how disgusting he is right now. There's sweat on every inch of his body, either pooling uncomfortably on his skin or half-dried in a sticky film. The mess in his pants is ungodly, come all over his soft cock and thighs and hips. The fabric of his trousers feels glued to his skin. His hair is stiff from sweat and lack of bathing, and his own pheromones are thick enough that they're hard to stomach even with Jinyoung there taking the edge off the sickly sweetness.

Jinyoung. _Fuck._

"Jaebum." His voice is rough, from sleep or rut or stress, Jaebum isn't sure. "Where are you going?"

Jaebum could lie and say he's just going to wash up and then disappear. He could do any number of things, really, but he finds himself doing what comes easiest. He curls his lip into a snarl and snaps, "Out."

"Where?" The sheets rustle as Jinyoung sits up, but he doesn't come any closer. "You shouldn't really be roaming the castle alone in heat. I mean, Jackson's never really had a problem, but it's still better to be safe than sorry — "

"What if I'm already sorry?" Jaebum challenges. "Can't really fuck up any more than I already have, can I?"

Jinyoung falls silent for a beat, leaving Jaebum to wrestle with a strange, ugly emotion that's twisting in his stomach that he can't quite place.

"A fuck-up, huh?" Jinyoung finally asks.

The phrase makes Jaebum wince, drags him back to Solune where he stood in front of his father and was addressed like a problem to be squared away. "What else is new?" he says roughly.

Jinyoung makes a harsh noise that is probably meant to be a laugh, but it feels flat and sharp like a blade against Jaebum's ears. "And here I was thinking things were finally taking a step in the right direction."

"Right," Jaebum scoffs. "Nothing quite like stupid hormonal fucking to get an omega under control."

"Really?" Jinyoung asks, and Jaebum can hear it, that spark that underlies Jinyoung's cool demeanor. "What about that whole...encounter" — Jaebum can hear the embarrassment tingeing his voice. — "gave you the impression that I was trying to 'control' you?" He shifts on the bed, just a bit closer to Jaebum, but even that small gesture makes his heart beat wildly in his chest. "Actually, what about that encounter gave you the impression that I had anything like control there?"

"You — " Jaebum grits his teeth. "Maybe you should've had control, then. Maybe then I wouldn't have fucking — " He cuts himself off with a deep, frustrated sound, but the thought runs to completion in his mind: _Maybe I wouldn't have wanted it so bad._

He's hit with the hazy memory of how he'd thrown himself at Jinyoung, how he'd begged and humped his leg like a dog. God, he'd called Jinyoung _alpha,_ moaned it for him as he pleaded with him to let him come.

Jaebum stands abruptly. He can't be here, can't have his head clouded with Jinyoung anymore, can't stand the overwhelmingly _omega_ thoughts that are ruling over his body and making him want to curl into Jinyoung again despite the fact that he should be disgusted, _is_ disgusted —

He tries to stalk away, but he hears Jinyoung scramble out of the bed, presumably to follow him. Jaebum whips around, ready to curse at Jinyoung, ready to fight him if it's what he has to do to be left alone.

But Jinyoung is keeping his distance, and he doesn't look angry or like he's planning to put Jaebum in his place. It's Jaebum's first time actually looking at Jinyoung's face since they woke up, he realizes, and he doesn't look anything like Jaebum had expected. He looks tired despite the fact that they were just sleeping, and Jaebum remembers that he hadn't slept before. There are bags underneath his eyes and he's curled in on himself, looking weary and small.

"Jaebum," he says again, and he sounds like he's pleading this time. "Don't go."

Jaebum is on the fence, unsure of what exactly his body wants him to do. Actually, he knows very well what his body wants to do — it wants to fall back into Jinyoung and hide in the curve of his neck until he doesn't have to think anymore, until the only thing running through his brain is the peace brought by that scent.

Jaebum swallows hard. He knows very well what his body wants to do. He just isn't sure if that's him or...something else.

And then there's a brush against his fingers, and he realizes that Jinyoung is reaching out for him.

Jaebum snatches his hand back. Jinyoung freezes, hand outstretched, eyes fixed on Jaebum.

He backs away instinctively, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to recede into the corner and baring his teeth. He must make an awful picture — like a wounded animal, feral and mindless. Probably, he thinks with self-loathing crashing over him, not so different from how he'd looked begging Jinyoung to touch him while he was in heat.

God, he's disgusting.

"Jaebum, please," Jinyoung pleads, hands up like he's trying to sooth a spooked animal. "I'm not trying to hurt you — "

"You've done enough already," Jaebum lashes out, wrapping his arms tight around himself. As if there's any use in trying to hide. As if it can make Jinyoung unsee every part of Jaebum that he'd so desperately laid out for him.

"I only did what you asked me to," Jinyoung points out, sounding exasperated.

And isn't that the worst part of it, really? That Jaebum had been so far gone, so ruled by some twisted joke of physiology that he asked for it?

"I — I was in heat, I didn't — " Jaebum's voice breaks before he repeats, "I was in heat."

"And I was in rut," Jinyoung says, his voice finally rising. "Did you think I was just — just waiting for you to be vulnerable so I could — what did I do to deserve you thinking this of me?"

"Wasn't this enough?"

"Forgive me," Jinyoung says coldly, "for taking your words at face value. Forgive me for thinking we were equals and that I could trust your judgment."

"That's — that's not what I meant," Jaebum protests. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Jaebum?" Jinyoung snaps. "I don't know what you want from me. I don't — " He makes a small, defeated noise, and drops his head into his hands. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong. Tell me how to fix this and make it better, because I don't fucking understand."

“You — you all treat me like a pity project,” Jaebum spits out.

“I don't,” Jinyoung says sharply. “You know I don't.”

“Well — " Jaebum struggles for the words to voice the sour, twisted emotion that's threatening to strangle him. "You look at me like you're sorry for me and — "

“I'm not allowed to feel sorry for you?" Jinyoung asks incredulously. “What, so you're the only one allowed to do that?”

“I don't,” Jaebum denies, but he can tell they both know it's hollow.

Jinyoung laughs, but it's jagged, sharp around broken edges. "You don't have to like me or want me or — anything really," he says, sounding weary, "but please...be honest with me. Or at least be honest with yourself."

It feels like the air has been snatched out of Jaebum's lungs. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean — " Jinyoung sucks his lips between his teeth, his brow knitted as he chooses his words. "I think you're not being fair with us. But I think it's because you're not being fair with yourself."

"How?" Jaebum demands, discomfort rippling through him at the focus being turned on him.

"You hate being an omega," Jinyoung says flatly.

"Yeah, no fucking shit," Jaebum replies. "You would too if you were me."

"You don't know that," Jinyoung says.

Jaebum snorts. "Pretty sure I do — "

"Stop that," Jinyoung bursts out. "Stop just — assuming things about me. Stop thinking we all see you as lesser than us. Stop treating me as a scapegoat for your own self-loathing.”

Jaebum's mouth snaps shut.

Jinyoung's lips press into a line, but his eyes are defiant. "Stop thinking we all hate you," he says quietly, "just because you hate yourself."

Jaebum jerks back as if he's been dealt a physical blow. "That's — you can't...say that," he says, but his voice cracks and he sounds unsteady even to his own ears.

"What if it needed to be said?" Jinyoung asks.

"No," Jaebum croaks. "Shut up, that's — "

Words fail him. There's a part of him that wants to lash out at Jinyoung, to gnash his teeth and curl his hands into claws and tear him apart with his hands the way Jinyoung has so soundly torn Jaebum apart with his words; but it's distant as if underwater, as if that familiar, easy rage is drowning underneath a torrent of something different, something new. It weighs down on his chest, his breathing panicked as he staggers back toward the door.

This time, Jinyoung does nothing to stop him as Jaebum tears out of the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The memory of Jinyoung's words feels like it's driving into Jaebum, burrowing beneath his skin and buzzing in his head as he stumbles without thought. Away is the only direction he has in mind, trapped in his own thoughts as his feet carry him blindly.

It shouldn't surprise him, then, that he ends up facing the familiar sight of the gardens.

It's not so familiar right now, though. His usually placid hiding place is crawling with people armed with trimmers and posts and heavy bolts of pink fabric, and he looks at it, aghast. He's frazzled from...everything, really, and this strange invasion of his space is just another weight on him.

He looks at his tree, blossoms opening tentatively in the spring sunlight, and thinks about his conversation with Younghyun. Thinks about Younghyun telling him to talk to Jinyoung, thinks about Jinyoung imploring him to do the same, thinks about the guilt that's been clawing at him and growing inside his chest. It's grown enough that it battles with the repulsion that's been deep-seated in the pit of his stomach.

The self-loathing, Jaebum thinks, that Jinyoung had so accurately pinpointed and called out.

Jaebum dodges servants as he weaves his way into the garden, ignoring the blatant stares and uncomfortable aborted greetings that follow him. When he reaches his tree, though, he stops short. The trunk is decorated, wrapped in thick swathes of silk ribbons in elaborate knots, completely unclimbable unless he wants to risk the wrath of whatever poor servant tied it in the first place.

He runs his hand over the silk, feeling the roughness of the trunk through the fabric. He's trying to ignore the murmur of conversation around him that has that distinct hissing edge to it that lets him know they're talking about him. He does notice, however, when the rumble of conversation cuts off abruptly, and he tenses, waiting for whatever is coming.

"Hey, there," says a voice that nags at Jaebum's memory, but isn't familiar enough for him to place. Light footsteps approach until someone is standing at his side. Alpha scent wafts over him, but he doesn't feel anything but a distant tug. "So, the rut's going well, huh?"

"Fantastic," Jaebum says. When he turns, he's faced with a man shorter than him with features as sharp as they are pretty. "Mark?"

"Jaebum," the man acknowledges. "You know, I could smell you from inside the library."

Embarrassment burns in Jaebum's cheeks. "It's — heat, you know — " Even now, his body feels sticky and unpleasant, as if waiting for an excuse to dip back into incoherence and need. Spending that time with Jinyoung, even sleeping next to him, seems to have at least taken some of the desperation away, but it feels tentative and precarious.

"Oh, I didn't mean that," Mark says dismissively. "I meant that you smelled stressed the hell out."

"That's — yeah," Jaebum says sheepishly.

"You really shouldn't be away from him right now, you know," says Mark, his tone balanced carefully between chastising and gentle. "Come on, let's get you back up to the castle."

"What is it with you brothers?" Jaebum gripes, but he follows Mark's lead as they head back through the gardens to the castle. Servants part before them like the sea parting for the helm of a ship, fluidly keeping a safe distance that Jaebum appreciates. "Do you guys all just wait for me to make a mistake and then jump me?"

"Hakyeon wanted us to keep an eye out right now especially," Mark admits. "But for the most part, you're just...very easy to read as far as your bad moods."

"Really?" Jaebum dips his chin down at that. He'd always thought that he was better at internalizing his issues, but if the way everyone from Hakyeon to Mark has reacted to him is any indication, that probably isn't true.

He thinks of Jinyoung's hurt expression. That definitely isn't true, actually.

"Yeah," Mark says. "But that's all right, you're dealing with a lot right now. Hakyeon really wants to adopt you, I think."

"I don't think that's how brothers-in-law work," Jaebum replies.

Mark shrugs before he opens the entrance to the tower and gestures for Jaebum to enter. "I generally don't get in the way of Hakyeon getting what he wants, regardless of if it's 'how things work.'" He looks at Jaebum thoughtfully. "He really does like you. You've got stop hurting Jinyoung, though. I mean, that's his baby brother, no matter how much he likes you."

Jaebum wishes he could curl in on himself at the reminder that he's hurt Jinyoung. He wishes he could cling to his old perceptions that Jinyoung hurt him simply by being an alpha, by being _his_ alpha; but the more he thinks on it, the more he can't see anything except Jinyoung's wide eyes and parted lips and trembling hands. He can't stop hearing the hurt in his voice and he can't stop feeling the pound of his heart under Jaebum's touch.

"I don't...know how," Jaebum says quietly. "To stop hurting him."

Mark raises an eyebrow. "I mean, maybe not yelling at him would be a good start."

"Things happen, though," Jaebum says. "Things happen and I get scared and I just — I don't know what I'm doing. Everything is fucking terrifying and I don't — "

"Jaebum?" Mark interrupts.

"What?"

"This stuff you're telling me right now?" Mark waits for Jaebum to give him a jerky nod. "Tell it to him instead of to me. The stuff you told Younghyun before? Tell Jinyoung that, too."

"It's...different," Jaebum says. "It's harder."

"Is it?" Mark muses. "Or are you just making it harder than it needs to be?"

Jaebum can't respond to that. He doesn't even know where to start, so they continue their trek up the staircase in silence. Mark seems content to let Jaebum stew with his thoughts instead of carrying on the conversation. He stops before they reach the landing where Jinyoung's quarters — their quarters, Jaebum supposes — are, halting instead before the doors to the library.

Jaebum almost asks why, but then he realizes that Jinyoung's scent is strong here, drawing him in. Mark gives Jaebum nothing but a wordless nod before they part ways.

Jaebum is left alone on the doorstep of the library — it's neutral territory, really, but it feels like he's venturing into Jinyoung's space despite the days on end Jaebum's spent here himself.

It's tempting to turn on his heel and leave now that Mark's gone. He could just hide away in their bedroom, push the difficult conversation they're about to have as far back as he can, but the idea of leaving Jinyoung in the library, licking his wounds, maybe ruminating over Jaebum's words the same way Jaebum has been over Jinyoung's — it doesn't sit well with him. Not in light of his conversation with Mark, or his conversation with Younghyun, or the guilt that's grown to the point of nearly suffocating him.

So Jaebum takes a deep breath and pushes the heavy wooden door open so he can slip inside.

The sweep of the door over the rug must alert Jinyoung to his entrance, because he's already looking up by the time Jaebum closes the door behind him. He's curled up on one of the loveseats with a hefty book in his lap, looking small and young. It just makes the guilt feel even heavier in Jaebum's gut.

"Jaebum," Jinyoung says stiffly,

"I — I talked with Mark," Jaebum says awkwardly.

"I can tell," Jinyoung says, tapping his nose, but he doesn’t say anything beyond that. His eyes fall back to the book in his lap, and Jaebum is left feeling awkward and neglected as he stands there before him.

“So,” he tries. “What’re you reading?”

Jinyoung heaves a sigh. “Why are you asking?”

“Looks interesting, is all,” Jaebum deflects. It sounds better than _let’s talk about the weird hormone-fueled sex and the subsequent fight we had._

“You can’t even see the title,” Jinyoung snips.

“I just wanted to ask,” Jaebum says defensively.

Jinyoung snorts. “Right. Because you care so much about my hobbies.” He rubs at his temple like he’s trying to stave off a headache. “Jaebum,” he says steadily. “If you’re just here to yell at me again and treat me like I’m some big bad wolf who’s preying on you, I really don’t have the energy right now. Let’s call it a raincheck for next week when I don’t feel — like this.” Despite the slight awkwardness at the end, he’s remarkably calm and detached as he speaks.

Jaebum doesn’t know if he’s ever sounded like that himself. He can’t help but envy Jinyoung a little for his natural composure.

“I don’t want to yell,” Jaebum says lamely. “I mean, I still kind of want to, but I’m not going to.”

“There’s a first,” Jinyoung says coolly. Before Jaebum can snap at that — and _god_ does he want to — Jinyoung turns back to his book and doesn’t say anything more to Jaebum.

There’s a curl of frustration in his belly at not being listened to, at the way Jinyoung is so dismissive of him when Jaebum is standing right in front of him and _trying,_ damn it, what else can Jaebum do but try —

Oh.

This — this hurt, this anger, this seething injustice under his skin. This must be how Jinyoung has felt since they met.

He wants so badly for Jinyoung to listen to him right now, to understand that his fumbling attempts at patching things up are all he can muster. He wants it so badly it hurts in his belly, a longing not so different from the one that had driven him into Jinyoung’s arms; but there are no hormones to blame for this, there’s no out. This is Jaebum, himself alone, guilt-ridden and bone-tired, and he has so many mistakes laid out before him that he doesn’t know how to begin mending.

“Jinyoung,” he says quietly.

At first, he thinks he’s just going to irritate Jinyoung further; but there must be something in his voice, some of that painful realization that’s seeped through, because Jinyoung takes a deep breath, closes the book with a gentle _puff_ and sets it aside. He doesn’t say anything, though. Not yet.

Jaebum shifts his weight between his feet, feeling the give of the plush rug beneath them and wishing that Jinyoung would be as soft as that.

Then again, Jinyoung has been. It’s not Jinyoung’s fault that Jaebum took this long to realize the opportunity he wasted.

Jaebum clears his throat. “I messed up, Jinyoung."

Jinyoung's face tightens almost imperceptibly, a mask falling smoothly into place.

Jaebum hadn't realized how open Jinyoung has been with him lately until he saw the door slam closed in his face.

"It's fine," Jinyoung says briskly. "Let’s not talk about it." It's such a contrast to their conversation after the bite, when Jinyoung had told him in no uncertain terms that he'd fucked up but had been so willing to listen. Right now, Jaebum feels like he's pounding his fists against a brick wall and praying for it to move.

“No,” Jaebum insists. “It isn’t fine. We need to talk — ”

“We _don’t,_ Jaebum,” Jinyoung says, voice turning harsh. His eyes are hard as flint and his mouth is pressed into a thin line and Jaebum can feel him slipping between his fingers.

The stuff you’re telling me right now, Mark had said. Tell it to him instead of me.

Jaebum takes a shaky breath.

“Where I’m from,” he says, “things are different. So different, Jinyoung. And I know I told you that, but — I don’t know. Growing up, my parents were my only real example of an alpha-omega relationship that I got to see up close. I mean, the nobles would be bonded and all that, but the omegas never got to hang around the actual royalty. Not unless they were providing...certain services, I guess.” He swallows hard, looking up at Jinyoung, who’s frozen in his chair.

“Why are you telling me this?” Jinyoung asks.

“Because Mark told me to,” Jaebum answers. “And you were...not wrong, earlier. When you said I don’t want to be an omega.”

Jinyoung flinches at the mention of their last conversation. “I was...harsh,” he says reluctantly.

“Yeah, you were,” Jaebum agrees. “But you weren’t wrong.” It’s painful to admit, reminds him of coming home from the gardens and having to pick splinters out of his sensitive palms. But at the same time, there’s the relief that comes from expelling what’s been digging into him.

And with the splinter out, Jaebum bleeds.

“I shouldn't have — I should've realized,” he continues, unable to stop the words now. “I should've understood that I hurt you, that I've been hurting you and — " Emotion wells up painfully in his throat and he clears it awkwardly, staring at his feet. "It wasn't right, for me to say all those things. Or to assume things about you."

It's the closest he's gotten to taking back everything he's said and done to Jinyoung since he came here. He expects to feel cowardly or weak-willed or like he's lost something. Instead, it feels like he's walking forward for the first time in a long time, emptying his pockets as he goes and feeling lighter with each step.

And Jinyoung has given Jaebum so many apologies, and Jaebum has brushed them off just as many times, but now he realizes what he's been missing, what he needs to say.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice dry and cracking like old parchment. "I'm so sorry, Jinyoung."

As quickly as Jinyoung's mask had fallen into place, it slips away even faster. It's as if he's been waiting, as if he wants to let Jaebum in instead of holding him at a distance. His eyes soften, his lips parting, and he looks so sweet the guilt stabs at Jaebum's chest again.

But it doesn't hurt so much when Jinyoung quietly says, "Thank you."

It doesn't hurt at all.

"You're right," Jinyoung continues, his voice subdued. "It — it isn't fine. It hasn't been fine."

"I know," Jaebum says, and now that he's started it seems like he can't stop, because the next words that spill past his lips are, "I really am sorry."

"I believe you are right now," Jinyoung says. "It's just hard because...I don't know what you want, Jaebum."

"What do you mean?" Jaebum asks. It's not defensive, though; he carefully keeps his tone gentle, leaving room for Jinyoung to reach out and meet him halfway.

"Ever since I met you, I've been — I wanted this to be as happy as I could make it for you." Jinyoung is staring at the floor, not meeting Jaebum's eyes. He's grateful for it; he doesn't know if he could handle that connection while Jinyoung lays his emotions out like this. "But it felt like you hated me before I even said hello. And I — I guess I can understand why. Why you'd hate the idea of me, anyway. But I didn't think — I hoped — " He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat when he stumbles over his words. "I thought you'd see. I thought if I just tried hard enough that you would realize that I'm not — you don't have to hate me. I don't want you to hate me, Jaebum."

Jaebum's voice feels dry and painful when he manages to say, "What do you want, then?"

"I want you to give me a chance," Jinyoung replies. "I want you to let me try. That's all I want."

He sounds desperate, a feeling Jaebum knows all too well. Shame washes over the burning hurt he's been carrying in his chest for so long, tempers it slightly, just enough that Jaebum stops seeing the walls that he's built around himself and starts seeing Jinyoung.

Jinyoung, sitting there in front of him, emotions running across his face more wildly than Jaebum has ever seen from him. Frustration, hurt, desperation — even if Jaebum couldn't see it written out plainly on Jinyoung’s features, he could smell it in the sour tinge around Jinyoung’s scent. Seeing it like this, though, having Jinyoung’s face so open to him, just waiting for Jaebum to read it, feels…more. It feels like Jaebum has taken a step forward into thin air and is falling, falling, falling.

But Jinyoung is right there, repeating quietly, “Please…let me try.”

And Jaebum, for the first time in so long, feels the earth beneath his feet again. It's shifting unpredictably, his footing unsure, but at least — at least he can take another step again. At least he can keep moving forward.

"I want you to try," Jaebum says tentatively. "And I know I haven't given you a lot of room to. I know I've...tried to drive you off. And I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep saying it," Jinyoung murmurs.

"I want to," Jaebum says, his stubborn streak shining through. "I have a lot to make up for."

Jinyoung snorts out a laugh. It's been so rare that Jaebum can actually get a happy noise out of him, but it feels like more progress than anything else, just that simple, sweet sound.

"You really do," Jinyoung agrees. "We've got time, though."

They do, Jaebum realizes. They have as much time as they need, really. Younghyun's words about spending the rest of his life angry at someone ring through his mind as Jaebum takes in Jinyoung. He's curled up in the overstuffed loveseat, but he doesn't seem nearly as weary now. He's still tired, sure, but there's a lightness to the line of his shoulders now, a lack of tension that Jaebum can relate to.

"You should go rest," Jinyoung says, reaching for his book and finding his place again. "I want to read a bit more, but I'll join you in a bit."

He's leaving the room, Jaebum realizes. Not presuming too much or pushing into his space. There's that characteristic carefulness to the way he treats Jaebum; at first, Jaebum had assumed it was because of his status, but the more he's observed him, the more he's realized that Jinyoung is simply a careful person. It makes Jaebum feel a bit stupid for thinking it had anything to do with him being an omega.

Jinyoung seems to have a tendency to make Jaebum feel a bit stupid in general. Jaebum's going to have to work on that.

But for right now, he sees the space that Jinyoung is leaving and — doesn't resent it, exactly, but there is a primal part of him that's been pushed aside for this rational conversation. The lingering tendrils of his fading heat are still wound through him, and even though the worst of the sexual need has passed, there's still that deep urge to be close.

There's still a part of Jaebum that flinches back from the need. He wonders if there always will be. But there's also the part that remembers the soothing warmth of Jinyoung's mouth on his bite, the way he'd cradled Jaebum's face, the way he'd promised him anything he wanted even when in the throes of rut, and that part of him wants to chase after Jinyoung and close the space between them.

Jaebum settles for saying, "If you wanted to jerk off in the library again, you could've just told me."

Jinyoung slams the book shut so fast that his fingers are almost collateral damage. "Excuse me?" he hisses, narrowing his eyes to slits, but his ears are burning bright red in a way that betrays his embarrassment. "That's — it's _different_ when you're in rut, you _know_ that — "

Jaebum can't stop himself from laughing, loud and bright, and he sees shock cross Jinyoung's face before he starts laughing too.

"I've never heard you laugh like that," Jinyoung says, his mouth curved into a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in that beautifully genuine way.

Jaebum rubs the back of his neck. "I've been a little stressed out lately."

"A little," Jinyoung echoes. "You don't say?"

Jaebum snorts. "Yeah, just a bit."

The smile is still clinging to the corners of Jinyoung's mouth, softer now but no less captivating. "Seriously, though, do you want me to go meet you later in the bedroom?" His eyes widen as he realizes the implication of his words. "Not — not for sex, necessarily, I just meant that since it's our shared quarters, you know, our living space — "

"I don't want you to meet me there later," Jaebum interrupts. He's tired and Jinyoung's loveseat looks cozy and his mate smells like comfort that he sorely needs after the stress of the past few days.

"Oh," Jinyoung says, face falling. "That's okay, I'll just stay here — "

"Can I sit with you?" Jaebum asks.

"Oh," Jinyoung says again, but it's entirely different this time, pleasantly surprised and warm.

Jaebum thinks he could maybe get used to Jinyoung sounding like that when he's talking to him.

It's funny how shy Jaebum feels sitting next to Jinyoung on a loveseat. It's almost prudish, the way he doesn't sit too close and doesn't fully relax against the back of the sofa, keeping his hands perched on his knees so they don't wander. They've gotten each other off, for fuck's sake. Jaebum knows what Jinyoung looks like when he comes, what he tastes like when he's moaning Jaebum's name —

And that is a terrible train of thought to entertain. Jaebum is logically aware of that, but there's just enough of those hormones that got them into this mess left in him for him to let himself scoot closer, pressing his thigh up against Jinyoung's.

He can hear Jinyoung's breath hitch from that innocent touch alone. His scent spikes and Jaebum can't stop himself from leaning against Jinyoung, his temple resting on Jinyoung's shoulder.

He still can't believe how much this simple contact can impact him, but he can feel it immediately — tension easing out of him as surely as if he'd sunken into a warm bath, worries flying out of his mind, contentedness seeping into his very bones. Next to him, he can feel its impact on Jinyoung, too. He feels soft, malleable as Jaebum sinks into his side more and more.

With every breath, their scents mingle more and more until they become indistinguishable from each other. It settles around Jaebum like a blanket, warm and thick, but for once it isn't suffocating. Instead of filling Jaebum with disgust, it soothes him.

He doesn't feel drunk this time. He doesn't feel fucked out or exhausted or delirious with hormones.

It's still easy, though. And as he drifts off, once again wrapped in Jinyoung's presence, Jaebum thinks that easy might just be how things are now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took a while for me to get out...jaebum just has a lot of feelings to deal with. and, of course, writing smut is an absolute bitch. as always, thank you guys so much for your lovely comments!! i'm going to be traveling to china in june/july, so i'll be stuck behind the great firewall and very very busy for a couple weeks there, so i'm not sure how quick i'll be able to be with updates. thank you guys for all the love you're giving this story and the patience you're having with me! ♡


	8. Chapter 8

Jaebum is cocooned in warmth, both physically and the scent that blankets him. He wonders for a moment if he's on the outskirts of town back in Solune, napping under a tree with Youngjae, their savory prizes from the market scattered around them on the throw they've laid out. As reality seeps back in, he realizes that there's no way he's back in Solune, and no one would be making the spiced pies he's thinking of this time of year anyway.

It still feels good, though. Good enough for Jaebum to let himself relax into the sweet warmth, even if it isn't the familiar shine of the Solune sun.

The idyllic feeling is marred by the hiss of whispers and giggles.

Jaebum cracks an eye open to see two grinning faces far too close for comfort. “What the fuck?” he croaks.

“I told you that you were going to wake him up,” he hears from above him. Jinyoung. He sounds exasperated but fond, and once Jaebum recognizes the boys in front of him, he understands why.

Jaebum sits up with a groan, pulling a face at the stiffness in his lower back and the dried sweat coating his body.

“Yeah,” Bambam comments. “That’s the face I made too when I walked in and smelled you.”

“Are you kidding?” Yugyeom chimes in. “That’s the face I made when I saw the _stain_ he left on the chair in the library — ”

“No, no,” Bambam corrects. “That face was more like this.” He twists his face into an incredibly ugly expression and starts pretending to retch as if he’s about to vomit. Yugyeom apparently finds this hilarious and collapses into Bambam’s side, shrieking with glee.

Jaebum groans and turns to bury his face in the warmth he’d just been asleep against, but he freezes when the implications of that hit him. His eyes fly up to meet Jinyoung’s, which are already fixed on him and looking at him warily.

“Sorry about the kids,” Jinyoung says neutrally. “I tried to make them stop.”

“It’s fine,” Jaebum replies. “I shouldn’t sleep in that kind of position too long anyway, it’s murder on my back.”

Jinyoung nods, every line of his body held carefully as if he’s in court instead of sharing a loveseat with his mate. Then again, Jaebum thinks, he can’t blame him. After all, the last time Jaebum had fallen asleep against him, Jinyoung had woken up to barbed insults and hurled accusations.

It would be easy to fall back into it. Now that the cloud of heat has properly cleared and Jaebum can distance himself from his hormones, he could take it all back and retreat behind his walls again.

But when he looks at Jinyoung, so careful, so gentle just for him, the idea of throwing cruel words at him makes Jaebum’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

He’s saved from having to settle on what to say by Yugyeom trilling, “Did you hear from Jeongguk, though, he was working out in the gardens yesterday and apparently Jaebum hyung went out there looking like _this —_ ”

“No!” Bambam howls. “I’m a beta, don’t subject my innocent ears to this — ”

“I am too, but if I had to hear it, then you do too — ”

“ _Out,_ ” Jaebum barks, embarrassment flooding his face with heat as he leaps off the loveseat and herds the servant boys to the door. “Get out, leave, you’re not wanted, _goodbye —_ ”

“We’ll get a hot bath prepared for you,” Yugyeom promises even as he’s being shoved away.

“Since you clearly need it,” Bambam adds. “You leave these alphas and omegas alone for a day and all hell breaks loose, I swear — ”

Jaebum shuts the door behind them with a decisive _thud,_ waiting until he can hear their chattering fade down the staircase before turning, his back resting against the door as he faces Jinyoung.

There’s a thick silence between them, potential interwoven with fear and too many past mistakes.

“Did you really go out like that?” Jinyoung finally asks.

Jaebum swallows hard, still feeling shame red hot in his face. “I was panicking,” he says. “You’d said those things and it was...a lot to handle. I wasn’t really worried about my physical appearance, especially when I wasn’t expecting the garden to be so full of people.” He frowns. “Not to mention, back home, even if the servants gossiped, they weren’t so — such — ”

“Brats?” Jinyoung supplies. “Sometimes I wonder if the kingdom of Cerisale will fall someday just because the servants will be too busy joking to actually sustain life in the castle and the whole royal family will die off.”

“I can’t tell if I’d rather they do it to my face or behind my back where I don’t have to worry about it,” Jaebum grumbles.

Jinyoung cracks a smile. “I — I like it when you talk about how you grew up,” he says. “You mentioned some stuff like that yesterday, and it...made some things make sense.”

Jaebum rubs the back of his neck. “It’s hard,” he admits. “Especially right now, it’s all so recent. It just makes me miss it more.”

Jinyoung nods. “I understand. But maybe — ” He hesitates. “Maybe someday you could tell me more? When you want to.”

Instinctively, Jaebum wants to clutch his memories of Solune close to himself, keeping them secreted away in a hidden part of his heart so they can’t be tarnished. But he realizes the more he thinks about it, the memories feel sour anyway, rotting away in his hands and poisoning his thoughts.

“Maybe someday,” he allows. It’s worth it for how Jinyoung’s smile grows that much wider, that much brighter. “For now, though, I need to wash.” He delicately sniffs his own shirt and winces. “I _really_ need to wash.”

Jinyoung snorts and tries to turn it into a cough. “I’m sure we both do.”

“Do you want to go first?” Jaebum offers. Being polite to Jinyoung still feels a little awkward, but it makes Jaebum feel lighter, not so different from trading in his heavy winter cloak for lighter silk. It leaves him with fewer layers of protection, but it’s freer, and besides — spring is coming.

“We could do it together if you wanted?” Jinyoung says, his eyes shifting so they’re not looking directly at each other anymore. His cheeks are flushed, a pretty pink that spreads to his ears. Jaebum wonders how long it took Jinyoung to grow into them. He can almost picture a small Jinyoung with a nose and ears too big for his face, can picture a small Jaebum next to him tugging on his earlobe and teasing him. Things could have been simpler, Jaebum thinks.

Things could have been simpler, but god knows Jaebum hasn’t been making them any simpler on his own.

Jaebum swallows down the immediate retort that rises to the tip of his tongue — defensiveness at the idea of Jinyoung trying to get him alone and vulnerable — and instead says, “I appreciate it, but...no thank you.”

Jinyoung’s expression doesn’t change a bit. “I understand. In that case, I’ll bathe first.” He stands, walking toward the door, but as he passes by, Jaebum reaches out and latches onto his sleeve. It’s a delicate grip, just his thumb and his forefinger, and it’d be easy for Jinyoung to shake. Still, Jinyoung stops in his tracks, waiting for Jaebum to say anything.

“Not today,” Jaebum says. “But...maybe someday?”

We have the rest of our lives, he doesn’t say. It doesn’t feel so foreboding anymore, though. It feels less like a decree and more like an eventuality.

“I think I’d like that,” Jinyoung says softly. He doesn’t look at Jaebum, but the curve of his lips is gentle. He doesn’t look like he’s holding himself with so much tension anymore. “Someone’s got to make sure that bite is healing up okay, after all.”

“It’s doing pretty well,” Jaebum says. “You took good care of — it.”

“I’m glad,” Jinyoung replies.

He takes another step forward. Jaebum lets him go this time, watching him climb the stairs until he disappears around the bend.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The bath is exactly what Jaebum needed, soothing and hot as he rubs away the physical evidence of the heat. Thankfully, no one is there to see quite how disgusting his clothing is when he has to peel it off his skin, but he still seriously considers drowning himself in the tub when he remembers Yugyeom and Bambam's teasing words. He doesn't know if he can face them again.

Thankfully, it's not them who are waiting for them when he's dried and clothed himself.

It's a weird sensation, to feel relief when he sees Jinyoung instead of buzzing anxiety. Then again, most people would probably be a welcome reprieve after dealing with servant brats with no sense of propriety. Jaebum wills himself not to think into it too deeply.

Maybe it's just because Jinyoung's brought a platter of food that he's set next to him on top of the chest at the foot of the bed. It's simple — steamed bread and cold meat — but Jaebum descends upon it like a starved animal. He can't remember the last time he ate, and the exertion of the heat has left him feeling shaky and worn thin.

He's halfway through demolishing the food on the plate when he freezes and looks sheepishly up at Jinyoung. Around the bite in his mouth, he asks thickly, "Have you eaten?"

"I did while you were washing," Jinyoung says. "Don't worry about me. Eat." As if to emphasize his point, he hands Jaebum a pitcher of water and a cup. Jaebum contemplates the cup for a moment before tossing it aside on the bed and drinking straight from the pitcher.

Jinyoung snorts. "Thirsty?"

"I think I lost half my body weight in sweat," Jaebum gasps between gulps.

"Same," Jinyoung admits. "And here we thought we were going to handle it alone."

Jaebum swallows and sets the pitcher down carefully on the chest. "I didn't know it was going to be so bad," he says. "I mean, I thought it was going to just be totally losing control, like I wouldn't even be myself, but — " He chews on his lower lip, unsure of how to articulate the way he's felt the past few days. "It just feels like everything's intensified," he settles on saying. The same way Jackson had put it, really.

Jinyoung nods. "Before my first rut, I thought the same thing. Like I was going to black out and come to later and realize I didn't remember anything. But it's...not like that at all, really."

"How old were you?" Jaebum finds himself asking before he can stop himself. "For your first rut."

Jinyoung shrugs. "Fourteen. Around the normal age for presentation."

Jaebum makes a sound between a scoff and a mirthless laugh. "Yeah," he says bitterly. "Normal."

"It was terrifying," Jinyoung says. He pauses before adding quietly, "I can't imagine having it happen when no one's ever talked to you about it."

"Jackson did," Jaebum says.

"Oh, _god._ " Jinyoung grimaces. "Jackson is smart and helpful, I'm not saying he isn't, but — it's the sort of thing your parents should talk to you about, isn't it? Or maybe a tutor or something, not your brother-in-law after you've already been bonded."

"My parents don't — didn't talk about this sort of thing," Jaebum says. "It's private. It's — " Dirty. Weak. Shameful. "We don't talk about it."

"I don't mean to judge you or your family," Jinyoung says haltingly. "But that doesn't seem safe. What if Jackson hadn't warned you about the consequences, what if he hadn't taken me to you — "

"There's no point in wondering 'what if,'" Jaebum says abruptly. "It's — it's good that it turned out the way it did."

Jinyoung's eyebrows fly up nearly to his hairline. "It is?"

"I mean — " Jaebum thinks back on everything that had happened — the long hours alone with fear and need curdling in his stomach, the cutting words exchanged, the panic that flooded him. But it seems oddly distant and warped like he's viewing it through restless waters, especially when Jinyoung now sits placid before him. "It could've been worse. At least we're talking now."

"I seem to remember us talking before," Jinyoung says drily. "And quite a bit more civilly than we did during."

"It was civil," Jaebum allows. "But I was still...waiting, I guess. For you to hurt me."

Jinyoung's eyes are round and expressive, and right now they're unspeakably sad as they regard Jaebum. "There's no point in me saying anymore that I won't, is there?"

"I — I'm working on believing it," Jaebum says, and the hopeful shine in Jinyoung's eyes makes Jaebum realize that it might not be as hard as he expected.

"I don't know what other alphas you've had in your life," Jinyoung says. "But I want you to know that even if they've hurt you, I'll never — "

"It's not that any other alpha has ever hurt me," Jaebum says hastily. "It's less common there. I mean, especially once I wasn’t a teenager anymore and I’d passed puberty, it didn’t even cross my mind to worry. Almost everyone is just...normal. It's not like here. The only alpha my age that I knew was — " Jaebum laughs, shaking his head. "This godawful squire."

"Did he bother you?" Jinyoung asks, concerned.

"Every damn day," Jaebum says, feeling his mouth curve into a smile. "He's my best friend." He turns to see Jinyoung looking at him with his head tilted curiously. "What?"

"You don't smile a lot," Jinyoung says. "You don't talk about things that make you smile, actually."

Jaebum sighs, pulling his feet up onto the chest and tucking them underneath himself. "I've been preoccupied. And — and scared."

"Of me?"

"Of...everything." Jaebum exhales slowly, leaning back on his hands and tilting his chin up to stare at the ceiling. It’s the first time he’s really admitted it to Jinyoung, even though it must have been obvious to everyone. “Of being treated like some toy to warm an alpha’s bed, of never getting a say in my own life again. Of being...lesser. Just being some fuck-up.” He grits his teeth at the painful memory of facing his parents and hearing — “Do you know how they told me I was going to be coming here?”

Jinyoung shakes his head silently.

“They said that someone had ‘agreed to take me.’” Jaebum laughs, the sound brittle.

“Jaebum.” Jinyoung presses his lips together. “That’s not — we didn’t — ”

“I wasn’t really thinking about what you all felt then, you know?” Jaebum continues. “What your family was thinking. You’re not really busy thinking about other people when your parents...just….” He trails off. He pulls one of his feet up onto the chest, resting his chin on his knee. “How the hell are you supposed to trust strangers after that?”

Jinyoung takes a moment to speak. “I can’t imagine.” He shifts as if he wants to mirror Jaebum's posture, a knee lifting before he settles back into position awkwardly. "But...for what it's worth, that's not how we thought of you."

"Not just some consolation prize for the baby alpha?" Jaebum says sourly before he can stop himself. He grits his teeth and breathes deeply through his nose. "I — sorry."

"If that's how your parents treated it, I can understand why you'd think that," Jinyoung says. "But I swear, I never thought of you as a — a prize that was being handed to me or some toy my parents got for me. All I knew was that I got a letter while I was away and I was going to get married when I got back." Jaebum must have a sour look on his face, because Jinyoung rushes to add, "But I — I'm glad that you're here instead of...someplace that might treat you that way."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," Jaebum confesses. "I don't miss the way everything felt after I presented. I don't miss feeling like some...fuck-up, like I'd ruined everyone's plans by going and turning out like this — "

"What _do_ you miss?" Jinyoung interrupts. "If you want to tell me. You don't have to, I just thought — the way they treated you doesn't matter anymore. Not when you're here. And I don't want it to hurt you anymore."

Jaebum wants to stare at Jinyoung and remind him of the fact that it very much does matter, that it led to him sitting here with a mark on his shoulder and a husband to his name; but he realizes that these things hurt less than the reminder of his father's dismissive words, his mother's pitying looks.

It seems like Jinyoung has an annoying habit of being right.

"Do you miss your friend?" Jinyoung prompts. "That alpha squire you were talking about?"

"Hongbin." Jaebum sighs. "I don't know if a person can really _miss_ Hongbin. It'd be like missing a splinter once you pulled it out." Even with Hongbin a kingdom away, it's difficult to let himself be kind, like he's somehow going to hear Jaebum speaking warmly about him and grow wings just to fly to Cerisale and lord it over him.

Jinyoung, though, looks remarkably unimpressed with Jaebum's reticence. "And he was your best friend? Are you sure about that?"

"Of course," Jaebum says defensively. "I mean, I miss spending time with him. He's funny and a good sparring partner, and no one else was as willing to tell me I was a piece of shit growing up. No one wants to talk to a prince like that." A laugh bubbles up in his chest and, to his horror, it sounds fond. "Except Hongbin, apparently."

Jinyoung's smile isn't wide, but it's genuine and warm nonetheless. "You like it when people who aren't me are honest with you, huh?" The words could be taken as a pointed jab, but when Jaebum sees the way Jinyoung's eyes crinkle at the edges, they feel more like teasing than goading. More like how Hongbin used to talk with him.

"Maybe I let myself get soft," Jaebum says, trying to keep his tone light. "Or maybe I just don't trust your honesty."

"Name one time I've lied to you," Jinyoung counters.

Jaebum opens his mouth, but closes it without saying the words that fly to the tip of his tongue — _you know I can't._

The words tumble around inside Jaebum's head, reminding him of the time a bird had gotten into the kitchens back home and flown around, wreaking havoc. The walls he's built, the preconceptions he's carried and stacked staunchly on top of one another until no one could see in and he couldn't see out — they wobble precariously, upset by something so small and flighty that he wonders at their integrity in the first place.

"Probably something about Jackson not being annoying," Jaebum finally settles on saying.

"Excuse me." Jinyoung looks horribly affronted. "I may have said he's not a bad person or something along those lines, but I would _never_ say that Jackson isn't annoying."

Jaebum snorts, and then it turns into a laugh when Jinyoung joins him. His laugh is a strange mix of hearty and childish, innocent in a way that feels strange when he's seen — well, considering what Jaebum has seen. It makes Jaebum feel less self-conscious about his own laugh, a guffaw that Hongbin had always given him hell for and imitated back home.

With every peal of laughter, it feels as if something else leaves his chest along with the noise. Something heavy lifted, something that leaves Jaebum feeling lighter.

"Forgive me for making such accusations against your character," Jaebum says, still grinning.

Jinyoung's voice is like warm honey when he answers, "Of course."

 

 

* * *

 

 

It's been a while since Jaebum has faced the rest of Jinyoung's family. The idea of looking them in the eye while knowing that _they_ know that Jaebum and Jinyoung spent part of his heat together makes Jaebum very seriously consider grabbing Nora and making a run for it. Especially Mark, after he'd seen Jaebum disheveled and panicking — or maybe Jackson, because he'd ask prying questions that would make Jaebum want to cringe out of existence — actually the worst would have to be Hakyeon, just for his smug knowingness and his falsely innocent smile —

Jaebum is not looking forward to meeting any of them individually again. So when he gets the summons to gather with the rest of the family, he thinks that it just might be a nightmare at first. When he doesn't wake up despite pinching his own arm — and despite Nora's clawing at him when he stops petting her to do so — he throws in the towel and accepts that this is reality.

Jinyoung looks at him curiously from where he lies on the divan reading. "Are you...okay?"

Jaebum drops his head into his hands and groans. "I don't want to do this."

Jinyoung frowns in concern. "We don't want to force you to do anything that makes you too uncomfortable," he starts. "If you don't want to be around that many alphas or if we scare you — "

"It's not that." Jaebum rubs at his temples. "Your brothers are going to be so smug and I'm just going to want to _die._ "

"Smug?" Jinyoung looks distinctly less concerned now. "You don't want to go because you're going to be...embarrassed?"

"It sounds stupid when you say it like that."

Jinyoung delicately slides a placeholder between the pages of his book before closing it. "You're the one who chose the word 'stupid,' not me."

"They know we — " Jaebum stops, his cheeks heating up. "They know about our...stuff. That we did together."

There's a pink tinge to the tips of Jinyoung's ears that probably matches Jaebum's face. He takes solace in the fact that he's not the only one suffering through this.

"I know they know," Jinyoung replies. "You might've managed to avoid them because they're politer to you than they are to me. But trust me, I've been made _very_ aware of the fact that they know."

"Oh, god." Jaebum winces at the thought of how vulgar brothers can be in an attempt to get a rise out of each other. The things Youngjae's implied about him and Hongbin come to mind, and they hadn't even _done_ anything. "Oh, _god._ "

"You're not even going to get the worst of it," Jinyoung says sourly. "Count yourself lucky."

For the first time in a very, very long time, Jaebum thinks he actually does.

He feels a little less lucky when they show up to the family meeting and Jackson makes a comment about Jaebum being able to walk normally. He feels is a little closer to murderous.

"Shut up, Jackson," Jinyoung snaps before Jaebum can say anything. "Just because you and Mark don't know how to control yourselves — "

Jackson counters, "Just because you're boring and your panties have been in a wad for two decades — "

"How can an infant have its panties in a wad? That doesn't even make _sense —_ "

"You were a special baby. You mastered being anal retentive before you learned how to walk."

Jaebum watches the pair of them descend into bickering, caught between relief that he's not the only one Jackson gets to like this and fascination at seeing this side of Jinyoung. Since their first meeting, he's been so careful about how he carries himself in front of Jaebum; but now, he's sniping and bitching openly at Jackson, matching his lewd comments and challenges at every turn.

Jinyoung is sharp and bright like he's diamond-edged, and Jaebum can't tear his eyes away.

He's vaguely aware of new faces in the room that he only faintly remembers from the wedding — a catlike man next to Hakyeon who, for all his notable height, seems happy to curl into Hakyeon's side; and a scrawny, bespectacled man next to Younghyun who's watching the verbal sparring between Jackson and Jinyoung as if it's a wonderful sport. With a jolt, Jaebum realizes he probably has a similarly amused smile on his face, as if he's just another member of this strange set of siblings.

Jackson and Jinyoung don't stop until the king and queen enter. Even then, Jaebum thinks he can see insults written in the line of Jinyoung's brow whenever he makes eye contact with Jackson around Jaebum's head. Jaebum leans back a bit to avoid the crossfire; he thinks he might feel physical heat coming from Jinyoung's glares.

The king sighs. "Boys, please."

"I didn't say anything," Jackson insists.

"You've said more than enough," Jinyoung says darkly.

"Let's get through the business we need to discuss," the queen suggests. "Then you can go back to what I'm sure was a very important conversation."

Where the king's words had made little impact, the queen's seem to shame them into at least acting like they're done bickering.

"You need to decide who's going to do what work to help out with the preparations for the festival," the king tells them.

"Why'd you have to call us to meet?" Younghyun asks. "We handle it ourselves just fine."

The man in glasses next to him coughs pointedly. It sounds vaguely like _fine, my ass._

"It's also Jaebum's first year," the queen points out. "Don't you boys want to make sure everything's explained to him? Or do we want a repeat of Jackson's first year?"

"It's not my fault," Jackson protests. "How was I supposed to know not all the punch bowls were meant to have wine in them?"

"How about common sense?" Jinyoung snipes.

" _So,_ " the queen says pointedly. "Please make sure the division of labor means that all the labor actually gets done and done properly."

"I'll manage it," Hakyeon offers. "I'm sure I can keep them in line."

"Mother," Younghyun says, sounding horrified. "You can't let him, he'll kill all of us in our sleep — "

"Then don't give him any reason to, darling," the queen replies with a beatific smile.

Ah, Jaebum thinks. So that's where Jinyoung gets it from.

It's interesting to see these traits that he's starting to become familiar with in Jinyoung in other people. Jaebum wonders if he was his mother's baby before anything else. Then again, it seems like all her sons fawn over her and try their best to take after her, although the quiet benevolence of Mark and Younghyun seems more similar to their father, who watches the conversation with fond eyes.

Jaebum doubts that his own family would look like this to an outsider's eyes.

When the king and queen leave, Jinyoung turns to Jaebum and informs him, "Don't worry, the others can duke it out for the more glamorous jobs. You'll be with me in the kitchens."

Jaebum blanches. "In the kitchens? I don't know how to cook."

Jinyoung smiles like his mother. "There's no cooking. And I told you, don't worry. I'll take care of you."

Jaebum wants to protest more — I've never been through the kitchens but to eat from the larder and walk to the gardens, princes aren't suited for kitchen work, what if Yugyeom and Bambam have told all of them about my ass stain on the library chair — but Jinyoung's smile stops him short.

"All right," Jaebum says. "I trust you."

He hopes he doesn't come to regret it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It turns out that the work Jinyoung does in the kitchen is simple inventory and paperwork. It makes sense, since few of the servants can write. Jinyoung sits with Jaebum at a low wooden table, parchment rasping against the grain of it and ink staining his fingers and wrists as he painstakingly notes what they have, what they need, and what they're planning to make. There's little light in the kitchen, a few lanterns adding flickering yellow light to the low red glow of the ovens. It makes Jaebum sleepy, but at least the work isn't difficult.

"Do you always help with this sort of thing?" Jaebum asks. He's taken off one of his rings and is spinning it on the table to entertain himself. "It doesn't seem like the sort of thing princes do."

Jinyoung finishes a line with a flourish. "What seems like the sort of thing princes do to you?"

"Helping your father hold court," Jaebum replies. "Traveling for diplomatic purposes, speaking with nobles, learning to fight. Lots of things."

"My father has my mother when he holds court, and that's more than enough," Jinyoung says. "And I don't hold much diplomatic power as the youngest son. And as for fighting — I've never been a fighter."

 _He likes his books better than his weapons,_ Jaebum's mother had said. It feels like another life. Jaebum wonders if he should've known even then that things wouldn't turn out as he'd expected.

"At least," Jinyoung amends, "not with swords."

Jaebum barks out a laugh. "I suppose that's a good thing for Jackson, isn't it?"

"Jackson." Jinyoung dips his pen into the inkwell with more force than necessary, splattering ink on his fingers. "Hakyeon, too. Interfering asshole. And Mark — you don't know yet, but he's more of a fighter than I am. Younghyun has his moments, too. Really, I hate to break it to you, Jaebum, but you married into a family of terrible assholes."

"All my worst fears realized," Jaebum says lazily, spinning his ring again and watching the way the firelight shines in the silver. "I spent all those years of friendship with Hongbin preparing for this."

Jinyoung snorts. "If your Hongbin was as awful as my brothers, it's a miracle you weren't put away for murder."

"What about you?" Jaebum asks. "If they're so terrible and you had to deal with three of them."

"I think we know which one between the two of us has the worse temper," Jinyoung says primly.

Jaebum presses his lips together. It smarts even though it's true.

"It's...something I've always struggled with," he says. It feels like he's making excuses. "I get it from my dad. Not that that makes it okay," he adds hastily. "I just mean that...it wasn't just you who's had to deal with it."

Jinyoung stares down at the parchment, scratching a meaningless design into the margins. "Yeah?" he asks. "I thought...for a while, at least, that you hated me."

"I didn't — "

"I think you hated the idea of me," Jinyoung cuts in. "But at first, I really thought it was me. I thought that at our first meeting, I'd somehow fucked it up beyond repair and you were going to hate me forever. And I thought it was going to be my fault."

"No," Jaebum says, throat dry. "It wasn't your fault, it was — "

"Don't say it was yours, either." Jinyoung looks up at him sharply. "You weren't the nicest you could've been to me, obviously. In hindsight, my hopes were a bit ridiculous. But from what you've said about what happened to you, your parents — "

"What hopes?" Jaebum asks, dodging the topic of his parents.

Jinyoung picks at the corner of the parchment, rolling it up and back down again over and over until it's soft and worn. "That you'd — don't make me say it."

Jaebum perks up at the hint of embarrassment. "That I'd what?"

"Like me right away," Jinyoung says sullenly. "Maybe love me at first sight like some terrible bawdy ballad about stupid lovers. I don't know. It was dumb."

"Love at first sight is kind of dumb," Jaebum agrees. "But you — if it had been someone else, I think they would've probably liked you."

Jinyoung scoffs. "What makes you say that?"

"You seem like the kind of person people like," Jaebum replies. "When I first saw you, I thought that you seemed like the sort of boy I'd want" — He edits his own thoughts on the fly, flushing at the idea of telling Jinyoung his initial impression of him. — "to be friends with. Under different circumstances."

"You're lying," Jinyoung insists, but his ears look red. Then again, it could just be the firelight.

"When have you known me to lie?" Jaebum asks. "Even when I probably should have?"

Jinyoung gives him a small smile. "I don't mind it. I mean, the immediate loathing and vitriol were a bit much, but I don't hate the way you speak your mind. It's different."

"Inconvenient for a prince, is what it is," Jaebum mutters. "Got me into a lot of sticky situations over the years."

"You'll be fine here," Jinyoung reassures him. "No one cares much about what the rest of us have to say when Hakyeon is demanding everyone's full attention."

"Hakyeon is...." Jaebum searches for a word to describe him.

"He's something," Jinyoung finishes for him. "He's truly something."

"That he is," Jaebum agrees.

"What about your brother?" Jinyoung asks. "You haven't told me much about him."

A deep ache pulls in Jaebum’s chest at the thought of his brother. “His name is Youngjae,” he says. “He’s two years younger than me and he plays the piano. He hates exercise and always avoided sparring. That’s part of why I ended up so close with Hongbin, is that I needed a sparring partner who wouldn’t always bail on me.”

“You’re smiling again,” Jinyoung says, his own face mirroring Jaebum’s expression. “Keep talking about things that make you smile. Please.”

There’s something about the _please,_ like Jaebum making himself happy is somehow something to do for Jinyoung, that makes him want to do it, like he’s accomplishing a goal.

It’s hard at first. Jaebum has felt stuck, swept away on waves of self-loathing and dragged down into its depths until he thought all the breath was stolen from his lungs. But, at Jinyoung’s request, he finds rock bottom, lets his feet settle against it, and pushes off, ignoring how jagged edges cut at him and sting as he’s opened up.

Slowly, it becomes easier.

Halting sentences grow into fond memories grow into gushing stories, words spilling forth from Jaebum’s mouth in a way that they haven’t for so long — at least, not kind words like this. Youngjae’s boisterous laugh in his mind’s eye mingles with Jinyoung’s silly loud _ha ha ha_ when he reminisces about the time Jaebum had genuinely been convinced he was secretly a changeling and would be swept away by evil fae in the night. The lingering pain around his memories of Solune flows out of him freely now, fouled blood let from a wound, sick branches pruned from a tree, and Jaebum aches and aches but keeps going anyway.

When his words peter out, slowing to a trickle, Jinyoung doesn’t press for more. He seems to know that Jaebum has been bled dry, at least for now.

He simply reaches out, his ink-stained hand resting atop Jaebum’s. He’s warm and his skin is velvety soft, and Jaebum lets his thumb run over one of Jinyoung’s knuckles.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung whispers.

“Thank you too,” Jaebum replies.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Spring has decidedly arrived by the time of the festival. The sun is no longer pallid where it hangs above the western horizon, and the sky is a bright blue that throws the cherry blossoms on the trees into sharp relief.

Jaebum watches from behind a hedge as nobles trickle into the garden through the front entrance. The trellis that serves as a gate is swung back, the latticework woven with silk ribbons and adorned with cherry blossoms that seem delicate and fine against the looming foliage of the hedges they rest against. The rest of the garden is decorated similarly, with dainty silk and abundant flowers throughout making everything seem pillowy and fresh. Posts have been placed along the winding paths and lanterns the same color as the cherry blossoms are strung between them, unlit in the daytime as they bob in the gentle breeze.

Jaebum is so enraptured by the sight before him that he doesn't realize he isn't alone until someone clears their throat behind him and spurs him to turn and look.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Jinyoung asks.

Jaebum nods dumbly, words stolen from his mind in favor of awe as he takes in the sight of Jinyoung in formal wear. It's different from the rich red silk he'd worn at their wedding. Now, he's dressed all in a soft pale pink, the silk robe that hangs open around him so fine and thin that Jaebum can see the warmth of light shining through it. His shirt wraps across itself in the front, creating a 'v' that shows just the barest hint of collarbone and warm tanned skin. All the pink just highlights the flushed parts of Jinyoung's skin — his rosy lips, the warmth of his cheeks, the flush at the tips of his ears.

But what draws Jaebum's eye the most is the band of black silk wrapped around his waist at the top of his billowing trousers, clearly meant to serve as a belt but accomplishing far more than its utilitarian purpose. Was Jinyoung's waist always so tiny? Jaebum wonders. Was his body always so...pretty? In his mind, Jinyoung had been a looming presence for so long, and more recently he's become a friendly face; but when he looks at Jinyoung now, feline and slender, he's struck again by the fact that Jinyoung is exactly the kind of boy he would have wooed just to get his hands around that pretty waist.

"This is my favorite time of year," Jinyoung says when Jaebum doesn't reply. "Sometimes the festival in the daytime can drag a bit because of all the sweet-talking and politicking, but once they light the lanterns and everyone loosens up a bit...it gets fun."

"If you're supposed to be politicking, then why're you here?" Jaebum manages to ask.

"Maybe I'm sweet-talking," Jinyoung replies with a flash of a smile that Jaebum hardly sees before Jinyoung is taking his elbow and guiding him down the path.

"Who — ?" Jaebum tries to ask, but Jinyoung shushes him.

"Thankfully, I'm not Hakyeon, so I don't have to do nearly as much brown-nosing as he does," he says lowly. "If we pretend to be engrossed in conversation with each other, we might even be able to avoid most people altogether."

"You always struck me as more diplomatic than this," Jaebum muses. "Or more of a people person, I guess."

"I am," Jinyoung replies. "With people who want to talk to me. Not people who want to get close to me to have an ear in the royal family."

It's a fair assessment. Jaebum's lived the life of the crown prince, and in a kingdom that apparently is wound in more pretense and etiquette than here.

"Here," Jinyoung says, stopping so abruptly that Jaebum bumps into him slightly. His body presses against Jinyoung's back for the barest of moments, and there's that scent again. That warm spice that immediately calls to mind his brother and freedom — and Jinyoung, Jaebum realizes. The scent doesn't take him away to better times anymore, or older times at least; he's still grounded in this moment, with Jinyoung's back slim and warm against his chest, his hair tickling Jaebum's nose for a second before he takes a hasty half-step back.

They've stopped in front of a long table that spans this edge of the garden and is laden with tarts, glazed meats, steamed breads — and wine, which Jinyoung hands him a generous cup of.

Jaebum doesn't think before lifting it to his lips. It washes over his tongue and slides down his throat before he realizes it doesn't taste like the wine he's used to. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, trying to place the lingering sweetness, the earthier flavor so different from grapes.

Jinyoung laughs, hiding his grin behind his hand. "It's cherry wine," he explains. "We saved it from last year's harvest."

Jaebum takes another sip. Now that he's not expecting the familiar taste of grape wine, he can appreciate the heady flavor of the cherry that helps to balance the blatantly alcoholic bite to it. "It's good."

"Isn't it?" Jinyoung asks as he pours a cup for himself before tossing his head back and downing it.

"Is that — " Jaebum starts.

"It's festival time," Jinyoung replies.

"Can't you drink wine any other time?" Jaebum points out.

"Yes," Jinyoung says. "But this is _special._ "

Jaebum takes a look around at the swaying lanterns, the dainty blossoms, the brightness of new life that permeates everything, and can't find it in him to disagree.

Jinyoung wasn't wrong about the daytime being uneventful. Lords and duchesses and counts and cardinals all seem to want to talk to Jinyoung — and _this lovely mate you have, Your Majesty_ — before making their way to their true targets of the king, queen, and Hakyeon. The conversations they have bristle with overt politeness, and Jaebum doesn't even mind taking a backseat to this sort of socializing, especially when Jinyoung manages it with such grace and finesse.

Jaebum simply smiles and lets his eyes wander. He studies the people milling through the garden and tries to spot genuine conversations among the careful verbal dances going on around him. He sees Jackson sticking tightly to Mark, completely the opposite of him and Jinyoung as Jackson visibly rambles to anyone who will listen and Mark laughs occasionally. Whoever they're speaking to seems to be experiencing a strange combination of being overwhelmed and incredibly charmed.

Jaebum starts when he feels a brush of warm skin against his ear and Jinyoung whispers, “I know that feathers are the trend, but I think Lady Seo misinterpreted it as wearing a dead bird on her head.”

Jaebum turns to look at Jinyoung, feeling his mouth drop open in shock. “What?”

“On your left,” Jinyoung says, nonchalantly looking the other way and looking for all the world as cordial and welcoming as a proper prince should. “Trust me, you’ll know it when you see it.”

Jaebum squints at him for a moment before looking in the direction he’s been told. When he spots her, he has to suck his lip in between his teeth to keep from laughing.

“Was I wrong?” Jinyoung murmurs.

“It doesn’t look like a whole bird,” Jaebum whispers back. “Maybe half of one.”

Jinyoung makes a dubious noise. “The birds in Solune must be bigger.”

Jaebum manages to hold down an indelicate snort, gulping down a generous mouthful of wine to hide the bottom half of his face. “Maybe you’re just being uncharitable.”

“Please.” Jinyoung pauses to nod his head and flash a winning smile at a noble. “I feel like I’m being charitable just by not vomiting at the sight of it.”

“Her outfit isn’t the worst out there,” Jaebum tries to reason.

“Oh, no, definitely not,” Jinyoung agrees. “Did you see Lord Lee? I don't think I've ever seen so many gems in one place and my father is the king."

" _Jinyoung,_ " Jaebum tries to plead, but he's having a hard time when he can place the man Jinyoung is talking about all too easily and has to stop himself from cringing visibly.

"No, you're right," Jinyoung concedes. "That's probably glass, not real gems. Either way, I don't understand how the man is standing upright still. Do you think he added them to make himself look less scrawny? I don't think it worked, do you?"

“Don't be so mean!” Jaebum hisses, trying to hide his grin behind a raised hand. He doesn’t know how well he could lie if any of the nobles they’re mocking asked him what he’s laughing at.

“Why not?” Jinyoung counters. There's a wicked twinkle in his eye that makes his entire face light up. "You're the one who's laughing."

"This wasn't something you told me about when you mentioned not being a fighter," Jaebum accuses under his breath. "You didn't tell me you make a hobby out of verbally destroying people."

"It's one of my guilty pleasures," Jinyoung whispers back. "Was I supposed to tell you that when you thought I was some monster just waiting to get my teeth into you?"

"I guess not," Jaebum says begrudgingly. It gives him pause, makes him wonder — what else has he been missing?

It's not until Jinyoung's smirk softens into a gentler smile that Jaebum realizes he's asked his question out loud. "I guess you'll find out," he says.

"I guess I will," Jaebum says. He tosses back the rest of his wine and tells himself the warmth spreading through his chest is from the burn of alcohol.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time night falls, Jaebum has lost track of how much of the cherry wine has passed his lips. He can’t tell if the halo of warm light around Jinyoung’s head is real and from the lanterns or all in his mind.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Jinyoung is gushing. “Isn’t it beautiful with the lanterns all lit?”

Jaebum gazes stupidly at him. “Yeah.” He’s sure that the red flush across Jinyoung’s cheeks that puts the pink of his robes to shame is absolutely real.

Jinyoung leans heavily against Jaebum’s side and lets out a contented sigh. “You know, our room has a lovely view if you’re starting to get tired.”

“Really?” Jaebum asks. As soon as Jinyoung mentions it, he can feel the ache starting in his knees and back from standing for too long, not to mention the way the alcohol is weighing at his limbs and making him slow and clumsy.

“Yeah.” There’s a tug at Jaebum’s arm and he realizes their elbows are linked. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

They take the back way up to the castle that Jaebum usually uses to visit the gardens, nearly falling into some of the servants relaxing in the kitchens now that the food has been served. He thinks he hears some of them snickering at whispering. He can’t really be bothered to care, though, not when Jinyoung is so close that every time Jaebum turns his head he’s hit with his scent.

By some miracle, they make it up the stairs to their quarters with only minor bruises on their shins to show for it. Jinyoung’s arm has slipped from Jaebum’s elbow to his waist, slung low and tight. Jaebum waits for the panic at the possessive grip, but something keeps it at bay. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the alpha scent rolling off of Jinyoung, but Jaebum finds himself simply leaning into Jinyoung so that his arm can wrap around him more fully.

“C’mere,” Jinyoung beckons, sitting so clumsily on the bed he almost misses and lands on the floor. It’s a good thing he didn’t, Jaebum thinks in the next moment when Jinyoung procures a full bottle of cherry wine and a jar filled to the brim with crimson.

“Where were you even hiding that?” Jaebum dares to ask as he takes a seat on the bed as well.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jinyoung replies. “Are you going to help me with these or not?”

The problem with wine, Jaebum has found, is that he wants it the most when he absolutely shouldn’t have any more.

Jinyoung yanks at the cork with his teeth, his face twisting into a snarl as he tugs it out with a resounding _pop._ He takes a healthy swig before handing it over to Jaebum and tackling the jar.

“What’s that?” Jaebum asks between sips.

“Cherries,” Jinyoung answers, voice straining as he breaks the seal. “Preserved ones. From last year, like the wine, to bring good luck to this year’s harvest.”

Jaebum watches as Jinyoung picks one out by its stem and pops the fruit into his mouth, thick red syrup making the tips of his fingers shine. Jinyoung grabs a cloth and throws the stem into it and then spits the pit out, the pretty pucker of his full lips making the action seem less vulgar than it should.

Jinyoung looks at his sticky fingers with dismay. Just when Jaebum is about to suggest another cloth to wipe them off, Jinyoung shrugs and wraps his lips around his own fingers, sucking the syrup off with wet little noises and letting out an appreciative hum at the taste.

Jaebum turns back to his wine and takes several rapid gulps.

“Do you want one?” Jinyoung offers.

Jaebum looks back at him and sees him, hand proffering a cherry and eyes wide and hopeful. Instead of replying, Jaebum simply leans forward and opens his mouth. He must be imagining things, because he could swear Jinyoung’s breath catches quietly in his throat as his eyes fall to Jaebum’s lips.

When Jinyoung lifts the cherry to Jaebum’s lips, he doesn’t hold it by the stem like he’d done for himself. He grasps the fruit itself between two fingers, and when Jaebum lets his tongue reach out to draw the cherry between his lips, he can taste the saltiness of Jinyoung’s skin before the saccharine syrup.

“Do you like it?” Jinyoung asks, voice quiet even though it’s only them.

“Yeah,” Jaebum replies. Jinyoung is staring at him so intensely that he almost forgets to spit out the pit. “I like cherries.”

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows. “Can you get them that far south?”

“We’ve had the preserved ones before,” Jaebum clarifies. “Merchants bring them down and sell them in the marketplace.”

“Oh, really?” Jinyoung offers him another cherry, sloppy enough that there’s syrup that drips down the curve of his palm and the delicate bone of his wrist. It shines in the low light. He looks like a painting, like oil on canvas capturing something too secret to be seen directly by eyes.

Jaebum takes the cherry without prompting. “They taste better here, though.”

He can hear the click of Jinyoung’s throat when he swallows thickly.

“Jaebum,” he says tentatively, eyes downcast as he wipes the syrup from his fingers off onto the cloth. “You know I really like it when you tell me about things that make you happy, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says. If he were sober, he’d be warier of broaching the subject of his emotional vulnerability with Jinyoung. As it is, he’s too busy staring at the feathered shadows that Jinyoung’s eyelashes cast on his plump cheeks.

“Can I — ” Jinyoung licks his lips and Jaebum follows its path with his eyes, “Can I tell you something that made me happy?”

“That just seems like a fair trade,” Jaebum replies. It’s meant to be playful, the tone they’ve seemed to find that makes things easiest between them, but it falls flat, as if the heavy atmosphere is weighing on it the same way it weighs on Jaebum.

“During the — the rut,” Jinyoung starts. Jaebum’s gaze flies back up to Jinyoung’s eyes at those words, but Jinyoung still isn’t looking at him. “It was kind of a mess, and I’m sorry for that — ”

“We both were messes,” Jaebum says. “And we — if there was any mistake, it was on both sides.”

“Do you think it was a mistake?” Jinyoung asks.

“I — I don’t know,” Jaebum admits. “But I’m glad we’re here now.”

“I am too.” Jinyoung regards him with open curiosity, as if he’s trying to find an answer in Jaebum’s face to a question he hasn’t voiced. “During that, I — I liked being close to you. I’ve liked being close to you before, too, it’s just...different.”

Jaebum’s thoughts are spinning and it’s only partly because of the alcohol. “Because of the hormones? And the — what we did?”

“Because — ” Jinyoung pulls his lips between his teeth, a habit Jaebum’s starting to recognize as nervous. “Don’t hate me for saying this, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaebum says. He should probably hesitate, but Jinyoung looks so small, so young in front of him on the bed, his feet pulled up underneath him and pale pink pooled around him.

Jinyoung leans in closer as if he’s about to tell Jaebum a secret, as if there’s anyone to hide from between the two of them. His shifting weight makes the mattress wheeze and dip beneath them. Jaebum falls a breath closer.

“I liked it,” Jinyoung whispers, “when you kissed me.”

Jaebum blinks, waiting for reality to melt and drip away to reveal it’s a dream in disguise, for Jinyoung to add a caveat, for...anything, really. Anything to stop the words that are leaving his lips without vetting, a tiny sentence with massive implications. But the words do come, and Jaebum hears himself as if from underwater.

“I liked it too.”

“Really?” Jinyoung sounds hopeful, his eyes shining as brightly as the lanterns had against the deep night sky.

“It was — it felt close,” Jaebum confesses. “I’ve missed...closeness.”

Jinyoung’s mouth curves into a tiny frown, his chin dimpling and the corners of his lips catlike and sharp. “You can always have it here. If you want it.”

 _I do,_ Jaebum admits, if only to himself. Having a cat is one thing — silent companionship, warmth he can hold in his lap, affection in small touches like nuzzles and swats. Ever since the bite, something has opened up in him, hollow and yawning. And Jinyoung — Jinyoung has been the one to try to pour himself so carefully into Jaebum, to fit his sharp edges, to fill that void even when Jaebum so jealously guarded any part of himself he’d seen as weak.

He thinks of turning his face into Jinyoung’s hand, of the way Jinyoung had cradled him like something precious.

“Thank you,” Jaebum settles on saying. “For everything.”

Jinyoung tilts his head and Jaebum is intensely aware of how close they are. Inches between their knees on the bed, between their hands splayed on the mattress, between their faces angled just so. That warm scent washes over Jaebum, mingles with his own, and Jaebum’s mind flits between _Jinyoung, alpha, Jinyoung, alpha_ — but maybe he should stop trying to make the distinction between the two. Maybe the only line there is the one Jaebum has drawn.

“You never showed me the lanterns from up here,” Jaebum whispers, his voice cracking as Jinyoung’s face draws closer. He can see the peach fuzz on Jinyoung’s cheeks, the way his lower lip glistens when he licks it.

“Do you want me to?” Jinyoung asks. “We can go to the window — ”

“No,” Jaebum says. They’re so close now, breath between them warm and damp and Jaebum swears he can taste cherries. “Stay.”

“That makes me happy too,” Jinyoung murmurs. “When you ask me to stay.”

“Stay,” Jaebum repeats, but the syllable is lost when the space between them finally runs out and Jinyoung’s lips bump against his, clumsy and chaste. His lips are slightly cool from where he’s licked them, but when Jaebum opens his mouth on a shaky exhale and lets his tongue brush against Jinyoung’s plump lower lip, there’s an undeniable warmth there.

It doesn’t compare to when Jinyoung mutters _god_ right into Jaebum’s mouth so that he can feel the tiny huff of air before Jinyoung presses forward, his mouth wet and open and eager. Jaebum doesn’t know how or when it happened, but his hands are on Jinyoung’s waist now. The heat of Jinyoung’s body seeps through the silk, the contrast of the cool fabric only making Jaebum more aware of how Jinyoung would feel burning hot and bright against him.

He’s only ever felt Jinyoung through clothes like this. Jinyoung’s skin is a mystery to him, and the thought of unwinding the silk from around him and following his hands with his mouth, tasting the velvety skin underneath, makes Jaebum groan into the kiss. He sucks Jinyoung’s lower lip between his own, plump and sweet as ripened fruit, and Jinyoung’s tongue is teasing and wet when it slips into his mouth.

It’s messy and clumsy, the slick sound of skin on skin, their shaky breathing and the soft aborted noises caught in Jinyoung’s throat. Jaebum’s mind skips like a stone across water, now focusing on Jinyoung’s fingers knotting in the front of his robes, now the brush of his nose against Jaebum’s cheek, now the way their knees bump when Jinyoung shifts his weight eagerly to press that much closer.

The push sends Jaebum off-balance, and he topples over onto his back. Jinyoung hesitates. Jaebum thinks he knows why — remembers their time together, the tight press of desperate bodies, the implosion afterward.

Jaebum tugs on the black silk around Jinyoung’s waist. It isn’t enough to bring him falling down on top of Jaebum, just a suggestion, but Jinyoung follows all the same.

“Stay,” Jaebum breathes against Jinyoung’s lips, and they sink together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy we managed to get an update in before my trip!! i hope you guys like it all right. there's ao3 in china, but i'm planning on spending less time writing and more time with family i haven't seen in a long while, so i'll probably update again in july! thank you as always for giving this story so much love and support ♡


	9. Chapter 9

There's a timid knocking sound, so hesitant it takes a while for it to wake Jaebum up. It's difficult to force himself to let go of sleep, wrapped in a cocoon of warm, heavy limbs and sweet, mingling scents.

Behind him, there's a grunt that whoever's knocking on the door seems to take as an acknowledgment and an invitation, because Jaebum can hear the sweep of the door over the rug and Yugyeom's voice asking, "Hyungs?"

Jaebum is ready to throw a pillow at the kid and tell him to come back later, but then another voice comes from the same direction as Yugyeom's.

“Any Solune princes in need of kidnapping?”

That drawl, that smugness — surely this must be a nightmare.

But when Jaebum forces himself to open his eyes, wincing at the bright morning light piercing through the window, the owner of the voice is very real and very close. In the doorway, in fact.

Jaebum is about to snarl, but the breath is squeezed out of him by an arm tight around his waist, pulling him back against a warm chest that's rumbling with a growl. There should be panic — after all, there's an alpha at his back, and a displeased one at that. But there's still enough sleep clinging to his mind, making his thoughts languid and thick, that he instead feels a way that he hasn't in a long while. He feels like he has someone on his side, someone ready to fight for him even when they're both barely conscious.

And then Jaebum realizes that his mate is threatening his best friend and he ought to do something about it.

"Jinyoung," he rasps, reaching behind him to try to sooth his mate. His hand lands on Jinyoung's hip and he pats it as soothingly as he can manage with the clumsiness weighing down his limbs. "This is Hongbin."

"What, I don't get an introduction?" Hongbin asks.

Jaebum fixes him with an unimpressed look. "You think I'm in bed with someone other than my mate?"

"You always were popular in Solune," Hongbin replies brazenly.

Jaebum snorts. "Fuck off. Jinyoung — Jinyoung?" He turns slightly, feeling the stiffness of his mate's body at Hongbin's callous words.

Hearing his name seems to snap Jinyoung out of whatever funk he's in. He scoots back on the bed, leaving Jaebum's back cold, pulling his knees up in front of him as a barrier even though he isn't any state of undress, shouldn't have anything to hide.

"Hongbin," he says, his voice that smooth, friendly tone that Jaebum heard used so much on the nobles at the festival. "Forgive me, I didn't realize you were a friend of Jaebum's."

"'Friend' might be pushing it," Hongbin replies.

"Sparring partner works," Jaebum offers. "Pain in my ass, punching bag — "

"I think you got that last one switched around, _Majesty._ "

"Hongbin," Jinyoung says abruptly, snapping the two of them out of their back-and-forth. "What brings you here?"

Hongbin shrugs. "I was up north with a cohort carrying a message to the king of Eserra and heard a lot of chatter about a festival here. Figured it'd be a good excuse to swing by and check if our princeling is dragging Solune's good name through the dirt."

"The festival was yesterday," Jinyoung points out.

"Don't be mean to him," Jaebum says. "It's not his fault he's too stupid to count days."

"Fuck off," Hongbin says cheerfully. "Anyway, I told the kid who I was — "

"And Yugyeom just believed you?" Jinyoung asks incredulously, staring at the boy in question.

"He has a paper!" Yugyeom protests.

"A paper," Jinyoung repeats, unimpressed.

"With an official seal and everything," Hongbin adds, pulling it out of the rucksack at his side and presenting it to Jinyoung with a flourish.

Jinyoung looks down his nose at it. "Well. Perfect."

The corners of his mouth turn up in a polite smile, careful and smooth, and Jaebum realizes that it's the kind of smile he hasn't seen in a while from Jinyoung. He's gotten so used to the warmth that can light up Jinyoung's face that he's forgotten how coldly distant he can be when he decides to, when he senses danger and cuts himself off from it.

"You must be hungry and weary," Jinyoung says, the epitome of a gracious host. "Bambam can bring you food while Yugyeom draws a bath for you."

Hongbin seems caught off guard by the sudden display of politeness. Hostility, he knows well how to handle; hospitality, not so much. "That would be...nice," he says haltingly. "Thank you."

"If you need me, I'll be in the library," Jinyoung says as he stands and picks up his robe from the floor. It's the same one he'd worn to the festival, effervescent silk now rumpled and tired. Jaebum has no recollection of how it got there, but that combined with the way Jinyoung's sash hangs loose and low around his hips, the way his shirt is cast wide open across his collarbones instead of tucked tightly around his chest — it seems debauched, more than it should, considering all Jaebum remembers is the heated press of pillowy lips and the warmth of a body held tight against his own.

It makes him wonder what he looks like. It makes him wonder what Hongbin sees.

"You can stay if you like," Jaebum offers belatedly as Jinyoung is already well on his way to the door.

"That's all right," Jinyoung says. "You should have time alone with your friend. Or sparring partner or — whatever you decide to call yourselves."

"Is this allowed?" Hongbin asks, his voice pitched higher than usual with concern. "We really ought to take this somewhere other than the bedroom — "

Jinyoung waves his hand. "Anywhere you like is fine. I'm not his keeper." He beckons Yugyeom until the boy jumps to attention and scurries after him. "Come on, you have work to do."

And that stings for some reason, leaves Jaebum blinking in surprise as an unwelcome feeling of being cast aside washes over him. Of course, Jinyoung isn't his keeper. He never has been, and if he keeps his word to Jaebum, he never will be. What he's said should be a reassurance, a sign that he's heard Jaebum's concerns and is acting accordingly. Maybe it is on some level; Jaebum knows he wouldn't react well to Jinyoung laying claim to him or making Hongbin feel unwelcome, knows that it would unravel the tenuous tie they've started between them.

But the careless way the words leave Jinyoung's lips, the dismissive flick of his wrist, the casualness of the phrase _anywhere you like_ — surely, Jaebum means more than that.

"He's an odd one, isn't he?" Hongbin says once the door shuts behind Jinyoung. "Doesn't even mind leaving another alpha alone with his omega? Must be a little" — He whistles and circles his finger by his head. — "you know."

"He's just trying to give me space," Jaebum says. He isn't sure if he's trying to convince Hongbin or himself.

Hongbin snorts. "Yeah, I'd want space between us too if I had to be married to your nasty ass."

"Oh, fuck off," Jaebum scoffs. "You wouldn't have to worry about me wanting to be too close to you, either."

"I'm not the one that smells _questionable,_ " Hongbin says. "Do you two just fuck constantly in here? Is that why it's like this?"

"No!" Jaebum squawks. "It's not — We don't — Oh, shut up and go wash, you smell like horse and ass."

"You sound awfully guilty to me," Hongbin croons. "Trying to deflect like that."

"I'm not deflecting," Jaebum says stubbornly. "Just because you haven't gotten your dick wet in so long you're creeping on other people's sex lives — "

"Excuse me," Hongbin says. "I actually fucked Jieun before I left — "

"What the _fuck,_ Hongbin — "

" — and I didn't drip on her."

“I’ll drip on _you —_ ”

“You better fucking not — ”

Jaebum leaps from the bed and tackles Hongbin, knocking him onto the floor and into an immediate wrestling match. Hongbin must have been taking his training seriously, or maybe it’s because Jaebum hasn’t been sparring or exercising. Either way, he finds himself pinned beneath Hongbin, snarling and cursing as he tries to free his wrists from Hongbin’s grasp.

“Wow, you really have become a kept boy, haven’t you?” Hongbin taunts.

“Let me up and I’ll show you how fucking _kept_ I am, you fucking asshole — ”

“Oh.” The voice from the doorway makes them both freeze. It doesn’t hit Jaebum until he’s looking at Yugyeom’s shocked expression that the position they’re in is a little compromising, at least to an outsider’s eyes. “I just — The bath is ready for him, is all, but I can come back later — "

"No, he needs it," Jaebum grunts as he shoves Hongbin off of him. "Get the hell off."

Hongbin grumbles but pushes himself up and stands. He nods to Yugyeom. "Thanks. I could really use some time away from this one."

Jaebum gives a half-hearted kick at Hongbin's ankle that he avoids easily.

Yugyeom is still glancing between them uneasily, his usual humor and brightness subdued. "I'll show you the way to the guest quarters," he finally says.

The look he fixes Jaebum with before he leads Hongbin out the door is unreadable.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum and Hongbin have never been the best at sitting around and talking directly to each other, especially not when it's a space that's so emotionally charged and smells like Jaebum and Jinyoung's scents woven together so thick it's slightly suffocating. The garden is always an option, but Jaebum has the feeling it's probably packed with servants trying to clean the remnants of the festival who probably wouldn't appreciate any disturbance. There's the library too, but it feels more wrong to take Hongbin there than into the room with his wedding bed; the intimacy he's shared there is rawer, cuts deeper, and it feels like something he should keep under wraps and hidden away for his and Jinyoung's eyes alone.

It isn't until Hongbin suggests it that Jaebum realizes the answer is incredibly obvious.

"I haven't done this since I left," he warns Hongbin as he hefts up a blunt-edged blade and gives it a tentative swing, testing the feel and balance of it in his hands. The weight of the protective gear on him — thick breastplate across his chest and heavy helmet under his arm — feels like more than it used to, but he still has a strong frame and natural broadness to work with.

“Already making excuses?” Hongbin teases as they step out into the courtyard. “Just admit you always knew I was stronger than you.” He hisses in a breath as a breeze ruffles through his hair. “Damn, it’s cold though, isn’t it?”

Jaebum shrugs. “I don’t really notice it anymore. You should’ve been here when I first came. Snow everywhere, like those picture books I used to read Youngjae. It's actually pretty nice, now, I think."

“Really?” Hongbin says incredulously.

“Really,” Jaebum confirms. “Not all of us are pampered by it being summer year-round anymore.”

Hongbin scoffs. “Right, ‘pampered.’ That’s why I was able to take you down so easily.”

"I've had other things on my mind," Jaebum deflects. "Some of us have a purpose in life other than swinging a sword around."

"Oh, right," Hongbin teases. "I'd forgotten about your esteemed duties as royal knot-rider — "

"I'm not — we don't — fuck _off._ " Jaebum shoves his helmet over his head and tells himself it's because he's tired of wasting time. It has nothing to do with the heat creeping into his cheeks. "Get in position."

"Is that what he tells you to do?" Hongbin asks as he follows suit, donning his helmet and stepping back into his stance.

"He doesn't tell me to do anything," Jaebum says stubbornly, and then he doesn't give Hongbin a chance to respond before he's hefting his sword up and swiping at him, the sword strangely awkward and familiar at the same time.

Their conversation pauses for a few moments in favor of the clash of their dulled blades. The ring of metal, the harsh echo of his own breathing inside the helmet, the grunts of exertion — they drive out any thought from Jaebum's head and leave only room enough for instinct as he fends off Hongbin's attacks. It comes back surprisingly easily, even if his muscles don't seem to handle the wear as well as they used to.

Their flurry of swings slows as they take a step back and size each other up, trying to anticipate each other's movements.

"It doesn't seem like he does," Hongbin says suddenly.

"What?" Jaebum asks.

"It doesn't seem like your alpha tells you what to do in general," Hongbin replies. "I feel like any other alpha would've ripped my throat out for showing up in your bedroom uninvited, let alone speaking the way I did."

Instead of answering, Jaebum steps forward and starts swinging again, forcing Hongbin to bring up his blade or suffer heavy bruising as Jaebum attacks points that would be minor in battle but sting when struck, even with a dulled sparring blade.

Hongbin meets each of his strokes without difficulty. The practiced ease of his movements is a sharp contrast to the way Jaebum hefts his sword more like a mace, like an instrument of brute force rather than grace. It's always been a difference between their fighting styles, but now it's more pronounced than ever. Any finesse Jaebum had had is lost in weeks of stagnation, the only real exercise he's gotten being tree-climbing and any exertion spent with Jinyoung.

It's getting difficult for Jaebum to keep meeting each of Hongbin's thrusts, and he finds himself having to step back and give up ground more than he'd like to admit. But he can't stand the idea of telling Hongbin to back off or slow down, so he grits his teeth and summons any strength he can into his wavering muscles, his arms feeling almost like water from how heavy the sword is. Surely, this must be a weighted sword for speed and strength training. There's no way he's lost all those years of training so quickly, is there?

Thankfully, Hongbin gives him a reprieve again without Jaebum having to ask for it. He debates teasing Hongbin for missing him and getting soft in his own way, but then he decides he'd rather not take a sword to any tender areas when he's poorly equipped to defend himself.

Hongbin sets his sword down and tugs off his helmet, managing to look dashing even with his curls stuck to his temples with sweat. "Are you sure he's an alpha?" he asks curiously.

"What kind of question is that?" Jaebum demands, panting as he follows suit and frees himself from his helmet. "Of course, he's an alpha."

"I just mean — he's really...soft, is all." Hongbin rolls his shoulders to work out soreness.

Jaebum thinks about Jinyoung's razor-sharp humor, the way his words can be so pointed and well-aimed, the sadistic glimmer he can get in his eye. "He's not that soft."

"Well, maybe I just haven't seen enough of him," Hongbin allows. "But I know for damn sure that he's soft on you, at least."

Jaebum coughs, feeling exposed despite the helmet. "I don't know about that."

Hongbin snorts. "You should've seen the way he was wrapped around you when I walked in. Alphas don't have to be that gentle with their omegas, especially not in bed."

"It's different here," Jaebum argues. "Younghyun and Mark — well, maybe Mark is different, but it's just because Jackson — never mind, that's not the point."

"What's your point, then?" Hongbin asks, looking amused.

"It's just the way alphas are raised in Cerisale," Jaebum says. "They all act like betas."

"And how do omegas act?" Hongbin asks curiously.

Jaebum thinks of Jackson and grimaces. "Like children."

Hongbin barks out a laugh. "So, you fit right in, then."

"Oh, shut _up,_ " Jaebum snaps, but he can't stop himself from letting out an embarrassed chuckle and rubbing at the back of his neck.

Hongbin looks at him as if he's grown another head. "You're...laughing. At me calling you a child. What have they _done_ to you?"

"Just because _you_ don't have a sense of humor," Jaebum fires back, but he's still smiling. Part of it is the easy back-and-forth with Hongbin, something he's never quite achieved in Cerisale. At least, not yet.

Then again, Jaebum reflects, it took him years and years to reach this point with Hongbin. Given more time, he can imagine his relationships with Jackson, Younghyun, Mark, even Hakyeon blossoming and growing closer. Maybe they won't be the same as what he and Hongbin had had in Solune — hell, it's almost a guarantee they won't, considering Hongbin's unmatched acerbity — but perhaps that isn't so much a loss as it is simply a change.

"Hello?" Hongbin waves a hand in front of Jaebum's face. "Stop thinking about alpha dick and engage in the conversation, asshole."

Jaebum swats his hand away. "Stop projecting."

"Oh, wow, you're so original." Hongbin rolls his eyes before hesitating, chewing on his lip as he looks at Jaebum. "Seriously, though, you seem all loopy and weird. Like you're drunk."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jaebum brushes him off.

"Seriously, Jaebum," Hongbin presses. "You're all — I don't know, it's like you used to be so sharp and now you've been sanded down, and you clearly don't spar anymore, and when I insult you, you just _laugh._ "

"What else am I supposed to do?" Jaebum says defensively. "There's no point in disagreeing with you, you're not smart enough to understand what I'm saying. Maybe I'm laughing at you being an idiot."

"No," Hongbin says, uncharacteristically serious. "You seem less...angry."

That pulls Jaebum up short. "Do I?"

"I feel less like you're going to bite my head off," Hongbin confirms. "They're not...treating you badly, right? Like they're not trying to make you act like this?"

"Not — " Jaebum pauses to pick his next words. It's something he doesn't think he's ever done with Hongbin before. "They aren't forcing me to change," he says slowly, the truth of his words sinking in as they leave his lips. "They just...made me realize I wanted to."

There's a moment of silence. Jaebum contemplates the changes he's made, some huge and impossible to ignore, some almost imperceptible, but all crystallized into something undeniable as he talks to his best friend. He's always known that he's been moving forward, but it isn't until now that he realizes just how far he's come.

"Well," Hongbin says finally. "That's gross."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum sinks into the bath Yugyeom and Bambam prepared for him with a sigh. It's been so long since he worked himself so strenuously, and he hasn't gotten this sweaty and disgusting since his heat. He shifts slightly in embarrassment at the memory, sending water lapping at the edges of the bath.

"Be careful, hyung," Yugyeom chides gently.

"Ah, right." Jaebum sinks deeper into the water. He'd forgotten he has an audience. "You know, you two can leave if you want. I know how to wash myself."

There's a loaded silence and Bambam coughs awkwardly.

"Well," Yugyeom starts. "We could just — "

"What's up with you and Hongbin?" Bambam interrupts.

Jaebum turns in the bath to face them. "What do you mean, what's up with us?"

Yugyeom and Bambam exchange looks that Jaebum can't quite decipher, but when they turn back to him, Yugyeom's eyes are nervous and Bambam's are sharp.

"Yugyeom said that you and Jinyoung were wrapped around each other this morning when he woke you up," Bambam says.

Warmth rushes through Jaebum's cheeks. "That's personal."

"Was it?" Bambam asks. Yugyeom tries to say something, but Bambam hushes him before continuing, "Is what you do with Jinyoung personal?"

Jaebum frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, hyung," Yugyeom says. "You did seem...really close with Hongbin when I saw you."

"Gyeom said you were rolling around together on the floor," Bambam says flatly. "All over each other."

What they're trying to imply hits Jaebum like a punch to the gut, and it hits too close to home, quite literally — it dregs up the bitterness and the anger at losing his only friend for no reason other than his status, reminds him of those lonely weeks with no one but his baby brother to turn to. It highlights the fact that in many people's eyes, he's helpless to resist the nearest available alpha. The injustice of it curdles sourly in his stomach.

"Well, maybe Yugyeom should knock on doors before he enters," he says tightly. "And then he won't see things and completely misconstrue them for gossip fodder."

Yugyeom flinches at his harsh tone and sharp words. "That's not — I was just worried, hyung — "

"Of course, you were just worried," Jaebum says, sarcasm edging into his tone. "God forbid an omega be alone with an alpha, right? Should we have asked for a chaperone?"

"No!" Yugyeom says, sounding horrified. "That's not — "

"Maybe one of you two would've liked to volunteer," Jaebum says. "Since you're so eager to know every single thing, since clearly a couple of beta servants know better than any omega — "

"That's not what he meant," Bambam interrupts shrilly. "And don't talk to him like that."

Yugyeom's eyes are wide and he tugs at Bambam's sleeve and whispers, "Don't — "

"No, go ahead, Bambam," Jaebum says. "Tell me what you're thinking. If that's not what you meant, then what did you mean?"

"He just means that you seem to really care about Hongbin," Bambam says. Before Jaebum can interject with his customary protest, Bambam continues, "And that's fine, but Jinyoung — he deserves to know."

"What, because he's my mate?" Jaebum asks. "He said it himself, he's not my keeper." And remembering those words stings afresh, makes Jaebum want to sink beneath the surface of the water and let the pound of his own pulse in his ears drown out the memory. It had ached during his heat, the idea that Jinyoung might not want him, but that had been largely chemical, a physical response to the idea of his mate rejecting him. Now, it's seated in Jaebum's heart, roots dug deep into tender spots that haven't hurt before. At least, not like this.

Yugyeom looks at him pityingly. "No, not because he's your mate."

"Because you should see the way he looks at you," Bambam says. "And you've put him through enough pain without adding breaking his heart to it."

The self-righteousness freezes in Jaebum's chest. "Breaking his heart?" It feels like too personal of a phrase for an arranged marriage. Then again, he thinks, aren't many of the things he's done with Jinyoung more personal than he'd ever thought he'd attain here?

Bambam lets out a long-suffering sigh. "See?" he says to Yugyeom. "I told you we needed to confront him about it, or he'd just end up flailing and ignorant on his own."

"Excuse me, what?" Jaebum demands. "I'm not _flailing —_ "

"You are a little bit," Yugyeom says, seeming to have settled now that Jaebum doesn't seem like he's in immediate danger of biting both their heads off. "Emotionally, I mean."

"Obviously, not physically," Bambam adds. "Or we'd have to yell at you for getting bathwater everywhere."

"You do have a talent for making a mess," Yugyeom agrees.

"Both physically and emotionally."

"Oh, shut up," Jaebum mutters, flinging soapy water at them with his hands. Bambam shrieks and shoves Yugyeom in front of him. "Get out and let a man bathe in peace."

The boys scoot the stool with his towel and robe closer to the bath — to prevent the aforementioned messes, Bambam reminds him once he's out of splashing distance — before disappearing out the door, mood decidedly brighter now that they've voiced their thoughts to Jaebum, like a weight's been lifted from them.

The problem is that the weight's been transferred to Jaebum's shoulders, and he lets his head fall back against the edge of the tub with a groan.

 _Breaking his heart._ In the winter, when he'd come, Jaebum would've laughed. After all, he'd gone out of his way to be as stubborn and fierce as possible when he'd first arrived. Surely, there's no way Jinyoung could have let him deep enough into his heart to do it any damage.

But in the winter, Jaebum hadn't apologized. He hadn't shared tiny crumbs of information about his family, his childhood, his fears. He hadn't kissed the taste of cherry wine off of Jinyoung's plush lips or wrapped his arms around his narrow waist, and he hadn't asked Jinyoung to stay.

He cups water in his hands and scrubs them over his face before pushing his hair back. He cups another handful and watches it drain between his fingers, leaving nothing but pruney skin behind.

He'll talk to Jinyoung, he resolves as he stands and reaches for the towel. Tonight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum spends the rest of his evening managing to take Hongbin for a walk in the gardens without strangling him with his own belt, which he considers a victory. The long tables that had borne the cherry wine are gone, as are many of the ribbons and decorations on the trellises, but the lanterns remain. They cast a soft pink glow over Hongbin's upturned face, catch the sharpness of his features, highlight the clever gleam in his round eyes.

If Jaebum were ever going to feel anything for him, he thinks it would be now. Walking in silence in mingled candlelight and starlight through the place Jaebum holds most dear, brimming with the joy of seeing someone long missed, hidden by the velvet blanket of the night sky.

Instead, he thinks of how Jinyoung's eyes had sparkled when he'd wound their arms together and said, _Come on, I'll show you._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum is lying on the bed with a book when Jinyoung returns, freshly washed with damp hair and a crimson robe wrapped around him.

"Oh." Jinyoung sounds surprised, stopping short before the bed. "You're here."

"Where else would I sleep?" Jaebum asks.

Jinyoung opens his mouth and then bites his lip, as if he'd almost responded and then thought better of it. "Nowhere, I guess," he eventually says. "Forget I said anything."

It feels like that morning again. It feels like Jinyoung's diplomatic smile in their wedding bed, like the dismissive wave of a hand, like _I'm not his keeper._

"Don't do that," Jaebum whispers.

"Do what?" Jinyoung asks, eyes sliding away from Jaebum and staring at a spot on the wall.

"Don't...close yourself off from me,” Jaebum says.

Jinyoung snorts. “Isn’t that a little rich, coming from you?”

“I've been working on it, though," Jaebum says. "We've been working on it. And it's been worth it, right?"

The tight line of Jinyoung's mouth softens and he meets Jaebum's eyes again. "I suppose."

Jaebum pats Jinyoung's side of the bed. "Come here."

Jinyoung slowly shuffles over to the bed, arms wrapping his robe tight around him. When he climbs in, the inches between their bodies feel like miles.

Swallowing hard, Jaebum smooths the blanket over his own lap. "Bambam said some, uh, interesting things."

"Oh, god," Jinyoung says. "What now?"

"Nothing too bad," Jaebum says before Jinyoung can start tearing into the boy and distract them from the subject at hand. Any other time, he would crave Jinyoung's sharp tongue and clever words; but right now, all he can focus on is the space between them and what Bambam had said hanging over his head. "He said I should talk to you about Hongbin." He laughs, aiming for incredulous and hitting awkward. "Can you believe that?"

"What's so unbelievable about that?" Jinyoung asks.

"Well, I mean — " Jaebum flounders. "You know."

Jinyoung lets out his breath slowly. "Is it that there isn't anything to talk about?" he asks. "Or is it that you don't want to talk about it to me?"

Jaebum feels his eyes widen. " _No,_ it's not — there's nothing to talk about." When he doesn't get a response, he says lowly, "Jinyoung, please."

At the slightly desperate tone of Jaebum's voice, Jinyoung tilts his head fractionally toward him. "You just seemed...happy when you talked to him," he says quietly. "You have chemistry."

"Chemistry?" Jaebum asks incredulously. "We're at each other's throats constantly."

"It just seems like flirting. Which is — " Jinyoung sucks in a breath between his teeth. "It's fine."

Jaebum squints. "It doesn't sound like it's fine." _Why should it be fine?_ he wants to ask. _Why does it not seem to matter to you?_

"It's supposed to be fine," Jinyoung says, but he sounds less sure of himself the longer he meets Jaebum's gaze.

Jaebum gives in. "Why?"

"We haven't talked about it, really." Jinyoung answers. "When we've...done things."

"I thought we talked about it enough," Jaebum replies. "We both know what we want."

"Do we, though?" Jinyoung knots his fingers in his lap. Unknots them. Squeezes them together so tightly all traces of pink in his knuckles are chased out in favor of cold white. "I — I told you last night, you can always have closeness here. And I meant that, I did, I just didn't realize that I'd — how much it would — " He breaks off with a huff of mirthless laughter. "I didn't realize that you might want to be close to me without being...mine."

"Yours?" Jaebum asks, the word feeling heavy on his tongue.

"I know your idea of being mine, or the idea that you were raised with, isn't — isn't something you want," Jinyoung clarifies hastily. "But it doesn't have to mean that. It can mean...whatever we want, really. We can figure it out." He licks his lips and Jaebum's eyes track the motion.

"I...don't know yet, what I want that to mean," Jaebum admits. He sees Jinyoung's face fall and he adds hastily, "That's not a no, though."

Jinyoung's eyes fly up to meet his, painfully vulnerable in a way that makes Jaebum feel naked himself just looking at him. "Then what is it?"

"It's — " Jaebum sucks his lips between his teeth as he searches for the words to assuage Jinyoung's fears without promising more than he can give. He isn't sure if Bambam had been right, if he even holds the power to break Jinyoung's heart; but he can remember all too clearly the day he'd first apologized to Jinyoung, the old iciness that Jaebum hadn't seen again until this morning, and he knows the dangers of giving Jinyoung too much and trying to snatch it back. It isn't that he doesn't want to lose the closeness they've built up, or at least it’s not just that. But the thought of Jinyoung hurting because of him is something he's made a reality too many times to want to ever return to it.

Jinyoung is patient with him, so endlessly patient. Waiting for Jaebum to find his words, but also waiting for Jaebum to come around, to apologize.

Finally, Jaebum says, "I don't know yet what it would mean for me to be yours, or if I could ever be that. But — But I think I wouldn't mind...working on it. Exploring it. With you. If that's all right." He wants to say, _You make me less afraid. You make me feel like the world around me is less terrifying. You make me feel strong._

He doesn't say it. Not yet. But he does let his hand drift hesitantly across the bed, bridging the gap between them with the whisper of fingertips dragging on fabric until he reaches Jinyoung's fingers curled in his own lap. He doesn't try to unwind them, simply settles his hand atop Jinyoung's.

When he looks up, Jinyoung is staring at him curiously. "You're much more careful now, you know?" he says. "More thoughtful."

Jaebum snorts. "Finally fit to be a crown prince, huh?"

Jinyoung looks uncertain of how he should respond, but when Jaebum lets out a rueful laugh, he follows suit with a sympathetic smile. "For what it's worth," he says gently, "I think you've become ten times the prince you were."

"Imagine telling me that when I first got here," Jaebum says.

"I think you might've killed me in my sleep," Jinyoung replies with a surprisingly fond smile considering he's talking about his own death. "But look at you now."

"Look at me now," Jaebum agrees.

Jinyoung eyes him contemplatively. "I know things are changing here, I hope for the better, but — would you want to visit Solune? If you could?"

The very idea makes Jaebum's heart leap. "Absolutely," he says immediately. "I need to see Youngjae again, and I suppose Hongbin too, even if we've really fulfilled our quota for spending time with him for the year probably just today — "

Jinyoung laughs, and his fingers finally unfurl beneath Jaebum's only to weave them together, hands clasped tightly. "So, that's a yes," he teases.

"Yes," Jaebum confirms, squeezing Jinyoung's hand. "God, yes."

"Do you — " Jinyoung hesitates. "Do you want to go alone, or — or should some of us, maybe — I don't know — "

"Do you want to come?" Jaebum asks.

A warm blush stains Jinyoung's cheeks and Jaebum feels himself smile involuntarily at the sight. "I would like that," he says. "Because it's one thing to listen to you talk about everything you had growing up, but I want to see it. And — " He purses his lips. "Don't be mad at me for what I'm about to say."

"Okay," Jaebum says slowly. This seems to be a precaution Jinyoung has learned to take with him, and the familiarity of it makes him feel surprisingly warm.

"I think it would be good for them to see us," Jinyoung says. "To realize that you're — you're my equal."

The words have a strange effect on Jaebum. On the one hand, the immediate giddiness at the thought of seeing Youngjae and returning to Solune dissipates like spun sugar in water, the cold reality of the manner in which he'd departed washing over him again. But on the other hand, there's Jinyoung, and the omega status that had torn at Jaebum so painfully during his last days in Solune feels less like a burden and more simply like a state of being. He doesn't know if he'll ever be like Jackson, defiantly proud of it and wearing his status like a badge of honor, but he does think this — this existence is one he doesn't mind living.

"I think it might be good for them to see that, too," he says. "And I think Youngjae might try to kick my ass if I don't bring you."

Jinyoung laughs. "I can't tell what to expect from him. Sometimes you make him sound like a toddling infant, other times you make him sound like an absolute spitfire."

"He's a spitfire infant," Jaebum mutters. "He's the actual sun."

"I look forward to meeting him," Jinyoung says, and the warmth in his voice makes Jaebum smile at him and run his thumb over Jinyoung's knuckle.

"I never thought I'd be having a conversation like this with my mate." Jaebum sighs. "I kind of thought I'd just be stuck up here forever with — well, you know what I expected from you."

"Yeah, you've made that abundantly clear," Jinyoung says wryly. "But I like to think I'm good at being unexpected."

Jaebum drinks in the sight of him, gentle features and sharp tongue, sweet-faced and soft-cheeked with his robe peeking open to reveal smooth golden skin and a lean, strong body.

"That you definitely are," Jaebum murmurs. He watches the flush spread down Jinyoung's neck and beneath his robe. "I never would've agreed to even try all of this if you weren't."

Jinyoung bites his lip, pretty and plump beneath his teeth. “What do you want to try? Not in the grand scheme of things or anything, but — just tonight?”

“Tonight?” Jaebum can’t tear his eyes away from how Jinyoung’s lip is left glistening. “We could just start off like yesterday? Since that — that was good.”

“Yeah?” The corners of Jinyoung’s mouth perk up in a smile. Jaebum remembers the curve of it beneath his own and swallows loudly. “Just good?”

“Well.” Jaebum’s eyes flick up to meet Jinyoung’s and see the playfulness there. “My memory’s a little fuzzy. Maybe you should help me remember.”

Jinyoung cocks his head and leans closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Should I?” he teases.

“ _Jinyoung._ ” His name is little more than a breath on Jaebum’s lips, but he can still see the way Jinyoung shivers at the sound. “Don’t be a brat.”

“Who’s being a brat?” Jinyoung says innocently. “Certainly not — ”

Jaebum’s patience runs out and he lifts his free hand to the back of Jinyoung’s neck, surging forward and kissing his still-open mouth. He catches more of Jinyoung’s teeth than his lips because he’s giggling, and Jaebum can feel the tiny puffs of breath with every sweet peal of laughter. His fingers dig into the back of Jinyoung’s neck, his grip becoming firmer, and Jinyoung’s giggles turn into a gasp and his mouth goes soft underneath Jaebum’s, wet and open for him.

Jaebum works the advantage he has, cupping Jinyoung’s neck with one hand and disentangling the other so he can wrap it around Jinyoung’s waist. Their bodies find each other, chests pressed warm and firm together and Jinyoung’s leg sliding up over Jaebum’s until his knee is hitched over Jaebum’s hip. Jaebum is hyper-aware of every inch of them touching, the rustle of sheets and the soft wet noises of their mouths against each other loud in the silent room.

And Jinyoung is pressing closer, closer, closer, until he's shifting up and over and he's seated on Jaebum's lap, thighs spread wide around Jaebum's hips.

It's the opposite of their positions during the heat, but Jaebum still feels as hopelessly lost in Jinyoung's touch as that day.

Jinyoung broke the kiss to shift positions, so Jaebum's mouth is free and — well, the front of Jinyoung's robe has been teasing him since they started talking, showing just enough warm skin to hint at what Jinyoung must look like beneath it all. Jaebum slips a hand underneath it, feeling how smooth and soft Jinyoung is as his fingers glide along his skin, taking the robe with them and pushing it off Jinyoung's shoulder. Even like this, still mostly clothed, there's something almost painfully sensual about him that takes Jaebum's breath away.

He follows his hand with his lips, lavishing attention on every newly revealed piece of Jinyoung. The delicate skin of Jinyoung's neck, the shallow dip of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder — he's warm beneath Jaebum's lips, and every kiss draws a tiny gasp or makes his thighs clench tight around Jaebum. His scent is thick and heady here and Jaebum revels in it.

It's further than they've ever gone with each other, but it feels familiar to Jaebum. This is the kind of sex he's used to, even if he usually doesn't have it with alpha men, and he feels his confidence starting to perk up again. Jinyoung is so responsive that it's hard not to preen a little at his reactions.

He lets his mouth travel further down, over the swell of Jinyoung's pectoral until he reaches —

" _Oh._ " Jinyoung sounds shocked, breathless, in the moment before Jaebum softly takes his nipple into his mouth and sucks. "Oh, _fuck,_ Jaebum." There's a ghost of a touch at the back of Jaebum's head, as if Jinyoung was about to pull him against his chest and thought better of it. Jaebum hears a _thump_ against the headboard behind him and realizes Jinyoung must be leaning his hands on it, giving Jaebum room to do as he pleases.

Jaebum keeps his mouth wet and giving, lapping at Jinyoung's nipple slowly and letting him feel the drag of his tongue against the sensitive skin, and Jinyoung arches in his arms and curses filthily. It's impossible to resist the urge to settle his arms into the dip of Jinyoung's back and pin him tightly against him as he sucks just a bit more harshly, feeling it harden in his mouth. He flicks at it with the tip of his tongue and it makes Jinyoung's entire body jolt against him.

When he pulls off and looks up, Jinyoung is gazing down at him with glassy eyes and slicked red lips as if he's been biting at them. He's beyond pretty, spread in Jaebum's lap with a flush spreading down to where the nipple Jaebum's been working at is wet and slightly swollen.

Jaebum's hands slip down from the small of Jinyoung's back until he's palming Jinyoung's ass and he squeezes, pulling Jinyoung closer. It makes Jinyoung's thighs spread further around him, robe parting and showing more and more skin with nothing beneath in sight.

"Jinyoung," Jaebum rasps, eyes fixed on the newly exposed skin. "Jinyoung, are you — "

"I just got out of the bath," Jinyoung says, refusing to look away even though his cheeks are bright pink. "I was going to get dressed here, I didn't realize you would be waiting — "

Jaebum doesn't let him finish, hands slipping beneath the hem of his robe and smoothing up the backs of his thighs until he's found Jinyoung's ass again, bare beneath his grip. He gives it a squeeze, and he wonders if there's any part of Jinyoung that _isn't_ sensitive, because that touch alone makes him melt against Jaebum's front, finding his lips with his own and melding them together in an open-mouthed kiss.

"You can," Jinyoung pants against his lips. "If you want."

"Can what?" Jaebum asks, slightly lightheaded as he runs his hands over Jinyoung's skin, dragging his fingertips along the very bottom of the swell of his ass where it meets his thigh.

Jinyoung laughs breathlessly. "Think about where your hands are, Jaebum."

Jaebum swears he can hear the gears in his own brain grind to a painful halt. There may be smoke coming out of his ears. He's not sure. All he knows is that he has a lap full of his mate, his _alpha,_ and he thinks — god, he _hopes_ — that he's just been given permission to fuck the prettiest boy he's ever laid eyes on.

"Are you — God, Jinyoung, really?" Jaebum drops his head to Jinyoung's chest and lets out a tiny moan as it sinks in. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Jinyoung says with a laugh. "I like it."

"You — You like it," Jaebum repeats weakly. He lifts his head to look up at Jinyoung again, whose face is painted with amusement. "So you've...done this before, then."

"Mmm," Jinyoung hums. "Maybe. Wouldn't you like to know?"

" _Fuck,_ " Jaebum nearly whines. There probably should be some possessiveness here, he thinks, but he can't seem to summon it up. All his brain is providing him is flashes of images of Jinyoung — Jinyoung arching his back to take a cock as deep as he can, Jinyoung with his knees up around his ears and nearly sobbing for it, Jinyoung bouncing in someone's lap with his head thrown back and his lovely face screwed up with pleasure. "Who? Who have you let — do that to you?"

“Some people here and there,” Jinyoung says vaguely, and then he bites his lip before adding, “Almost Jackson once, a long time ago.”

Jaebum thinks of Jackson's giddy joy whenever he talks about letting Mark claim him and snorts. “Good luck getting him to agree to…this.”

“Oh, I don't know.” The corners of Jinyoung's lips curl up in a cat-like smile and he lets the other shoulder of his robe slip off. The silk is barely hanging off his body now, the tie around his waist only just preserving what little modesty he has left. “I think I can be pretty persuasive.”

"I — " Jaebum swallows, throat so dry it hurts. "I don't doubt that."

"So, what do you say?" Jinyoung cocks his head. "Do you want to?"

"Yes," Jaebum replies immediately. "I want. So bad."

Jinyoung laughs, and he looks so happy, so pleased with himself to have Jaebum clamoring for him. It makes Jaebum want to wipe the smile off his face, but it also fills Jaebum with a satisfaction of his own, to have Jinyoung so content in his arms.

He finds a middle ground and tugs Jinyoung off his lap and bears him down onto the mattress, kissing that smug smirk until it turns into a breathless gasp.

“Have you ever done this with — with someone like me?” Jinyoung asks. Jaebum’s face is buried in his neck, sucking softly at the skin, so Jinyoung’s words are low and intimate right above his ear.

“No,” Jaebum admits. “Only...you know.”

“I know,” Jinyoung says, making it easy for him. He always makes it so easy for Jaebum, bridges the gaps between them and meets Jaebum more than halfway. Even now, laying himself here for Jaebum this way, letting Jaebum run his palms down his front and tug at the belt of his robe until he’s completely bare before him — he’s given Jaebum so much.

Gratitude washes over Jaebum, both at Jinyoung’s actions and at whatever cosmic power has given him this man for a mate. He pushes the robe away to the sides and leans down to press a kiss over Jinyoung’s heart. “Show me how to do this.”

Jinyoung shivers. “Okay.” He props himself up on his elbows and points to the little chest of drawers by the bed. “In the first drawer. There should be a little jar with a lid — ”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Jaebum is scrambling to follow his directions, finding the little pot easily and setting the lid aside and scooping out some of its contents. It melts easily as it comes into contact with the warmth of his skin, and he finds himself hastily rubbing his thumb and fingers together to try to spread it on his hand so it won’t drip.

He still ends up making a mess, though, and he looks at Jinyoung sheepishly. The breath is knocked from his lungs when he sees the tenderness with which Jinyoung is smiling at him.

“Idiot,” Jinyoung says fondly. “You didn’t even get your trousers off and now you’ve gone and made a mess of your hands.”

“Oh,” Jaebum says dumbly. “Well. We can start with you, I guess.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jinyoung lies back on the bed and spreads his thighs. His feet are flat on the bed, legs bent at the knee, and Jaebum can’t resist the urge to turn his face and kiss the pink skin there. He lets his cheek rest against the inside of Jinyoung’s knee as he takes in how pretty Jinyoung is.

This is the first time he’s actually seen Jinyoung’s cock, he realizes. During his rut, Jinyoung hadn’t even undone his trousers, and they haven’t gone beyond kissing since then. But now he’s fully laid out and Jaebum has to admit that the sight of his erection thick and full against his belly sends a frisson of arousal through Jaebum’s body. It’s true what they say about alphas then, he thinks hazily. God, as if it weren’t already large enough, it’s even thicker at the base. Where his knot will form during Jaebum’s heat, he knows, but it’s still intimidating to actually see before him.

“Hey.”

Jaebum’s eyes snap up guiltily to look at Jinyoung. “Huh?”

“You don’t have to,” Jinyoung says, sounding shy for the first time since he offered this. “We can just...kiss some more, if you want.”

“No,” Jaebum says hastily. “I — I do want to. I really want to, Jinyoung, you have no idea.”

Jinyoung smiles. “Yeah?”

“I’m just...new to this, you know?” He leans forward impulsively and runs two slick fingers along the underside of Jinyoung’s shaft. He can hear Jinyoung’s breath catch in his throat, but even more obviously than that, he can see how his cock twitches against his belly. It makes him feel strangely powerful, to see so clearly the effect he can have on Jinyoung.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says in a strangled voice. “Just a tip: the oil is for places other than — there.”

Jaebum snorts. “Really? I had no idea.”

“Well, then, smartass,” Jinyoung says. “Let me help you.”

And then thin fingers are wrapping around Jaebum’s wrist and he finds his hand being guided between Jinyoung’s thighs and — fuck.

“How many?” Jaebum asks, feeling inexperienced in a way he hasn’t in years. “I’ve never — ”

Jinyoung’s thumb strokes along Jaebum’s wrist, surprisingly sweet considering he’s trying to teach Jaebum how to finger him open. “One or two. I just — I don’t get wet.” He laughs a little self-consciously. “Obviously.”

Jaebum lets the pads of his fingers circle over Jinyoung’s hole, smearing oil across it, and Jinyoung’s laugh dies in his throat. He can feel how the muscle flutters under his fingers and it feels natural to slip one in, like Jinyoung’s body is asking him to.

Jinyoung immediately melts into the mattress and he lets out a sigh. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Is it?” Jaebum asks curiously. There’s no reason for it to feel good for Jinyoung, really, not like the girls he’d fucked at home or like — well, like Jaebum, presumably.

“Yeah.” Jinyoung circles his hips slightly and Jaebum’s mouth goes dry at how hot he is inside, how tight. He pulls his hand back and pushes in again with another finger, fucking the lubricant into him and getting him wet. Jinyoung chokes on a gasp and bites his lip, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes Jaebum’s fingers.

“You take it so well,” Jaebum murmurs, in awe of how easily Jinyoung’s body opens up for him.

Jinyoung huffs out a raspy chuckle. “Wait until you’re actually fucking me.”

“ _God,_ ” Jaebum hisses, feeling his own cock throb in his trousers at the thought of being inside the wet heat he’s fingering right now. He starts fucking Jinyoung properly now, pushing his fingers in up to the knuckle on each thrust in. Jinyoung makes a tiny noise each time, his lip caught between his teeth. “Can’t wait to feel you, Jinyoung.”

“Then do it,” Jinyoung gasps. “Put some — on you — ”

Jaebum does as he’s told, shoving his trousers down to his mid-thigh and completely disregarding the mess. He slathers more oil on himself and groans, fucking forward into his fist for a moment. He doesn’t miss the way Jinyoung’s eyes are fixed on the glistening head of his cock slipping between his fingers.

Jinyoung grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him flush between his legs, already wrapping around his hips as if he’s trying to get Jaebum in him as quickly as possible. It feels clumsy and eager, like a first time. It is, in a way, but Jaebum hasn’t fumbled like this in years just trying to get inside someone. He can’t tell if it’s because of what they’re doing or if it’s because it’s Jinyoung. In all honesty, it’s probably both.

The head of his cock slides messily through the slick between Jinyoung’s legs, and it takes Jaebum a few tries, slipping and thrusting against the pillowy insides of Jinyoung’s thighs. Finally, though, he gets his trembling hands under control and guides himself to Jinyoung’s entrance and pushes in slowly. He can’t stop himself from staring as Jinyoung’s body stretches around his cock.

Jinyoung whimpers, throwing a forearm over his face. “ _Christ,_ Jaebum,” he chokes out.

Words completely escape Jaebum. A guttural groan punches out of him, and he grips Jinyoung’s hips as he works his cock into him. It’s so tight, tighter than anything Jaebum’s felt before, like Jinyoung’s body is sucking him in. When he’s fully inside, he lets out a shaky exhale.

Jinyoung tugs him by his shirt again, and Jaebum leans down over him, settling on his elbows and caging Jinyoung in. “Okay?” he pants.

“Perfect,” Jinyoung whispers. “It’d be even better if you fucked me, though.”

Jaebum pulls back and thrusts back in with the intention of making Jinyoung eat his words. It works, in a way, because Jinyoung whines and arches up beneath him; but Jaebum is just as affected, swearing and gripping the sheets as he shoves his cock as deep into Jinyoung as he can.

It feels like so much more with Jinyoung. Maybe it’s because they’re mated, maybe it’s because Jaebum’s never fucked anyone like this before, maybe it’s because Jinyoung moans like he’s savoring the feeling of Jaebum’s cock inside him. Everything is vivid, from the hot clench of Jinyoung’s body around him to the hiccup of Jinyoung’s moans to the filthy noises from the glide of oil every time Jaebum drives into him.

Jaebum realizes with a jolt that it's not this wet just because of the oil he'd smeared between Jinyoung's legs and worked up into him with his fingers. He's dripping slick again, strangely and instinctively familiar despite the fact that it's happened so few times. It's no surprise, considering how painfully aroused he is by Jinyoung, but it still gives him pause for just a moment, his thrusts stuttering to a halt.

"Jinyoung," he whispers, unsure of what to say or do. "It's — I'm — "

One of Jinyoung's hands slides down his back and finds where he's wet. He doesn't try to slip his fingers in, doesn't even press the pads against his hole; he simply drags his fingers through the slick, making Jaebum even more aware of just how _much_ there is.

He meets Jaebum's eyes when he lifts his wet fingers to his own lips and licks it off with a deep groan. Jaebum stares, entranced as Jinyoung's little pink tongue peeks out of his mouth and laps up every drop, dancing between his pretty fingers as he swallows it eagerly.

"Fuck, Jaebum," he breathes when he's done, his head falling back against the pillow and his eyes fluttering shut. "God, you're so hot."

Jaebum feels like he could die. But for once, it’s not out of humiliation or hatred for his body; no, he thinks, he could probably die a happy man, or at least a very turned on one, just from seeing Jinyoung’s tongue on his fingers.

Jaebum buries his face in Jinyoung’s neck and when he inhales, he’s overwhelmed with _alpha, alpha, alpha._ Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel how he gets wetter at his mate’s scent. He’s distinctly aware of a part of his body he’s never paid attention to, at least not sexually, not while he wasn’t doped up on hormones. It aches in a deep way that’s different from the urge to sink his cock into something warm and wet, throbs with a need to be filled. It’s tempting but terrifying, and Jaebum isn’t ready to face it yet.

So he slips his hands under Jinyoung’s shoulders, grips them tightly, and uses his hold to fuck into him hard enough that every thrust pushes a cry out of Jinyoung’s lips.

“Jaebum,” he mewls, clutching at Jaebum’s arms as he gets fucked so hard he slides up the sheets. “Jaebum, god, touch me touch me touch me — ”

And Jaebum should think, should pause, should remember the fact that he's never touched another man like this before; but thinking is difficult when he's balls-deep inside of his mate who's begging to be touched and there's a hunger in his subconscious to draw every possible moan and whine from Jinyoung’s body that he can.

So he shifts his weight so he can wrap one of his hands around Jinyoung’s cock as best he can, trying to ignore how the weight of it in his grasp and the way it throbs sends more wetness spilling down the insides of his thighs. He focuses on the way Jinyoung’s breath hitches when he runs his thumb right underneath the head, pulls back his foreskin and feels precome drip down over his hand.

He's so fixated on pleasing Jinyoung that he doesn't even realize that one of Jinyoung’s hands is traveling from Jaebum’s arm to his back until there’s a warm pressure against his bond bite and he lets out a groan so loud it's almost a sob. It sends tingling pleasure coursing through him and lights a fire in his gut and sends his hips off-rhythm as he drops his weight back onto his elbows and ruts wildly into Jinyoung. The pleasure crests too quickly, so sudden it should be unsatisfying, except there's nothing lacking about the way Jaebum feels stripped down and pinned between Jinyoung’s hand on his back and his ass on his cock.

Distantly he thinks he can hear himself — a stream of _fuck, god, Jinyoung, please_ — but his brain is buzzing so loudly he feels drunk again.

And then, through the overwhelming sensation, Jinyoung’s voice, rich and sweet and perfect. “Come for me, Jaebum.”

Jaebum doesn't think he could stop himself if he wanted to. Jinyoung, alpha, whatever it is, it's too much and it's perfect. He shoves his face into the soft skin between Jinyoung’s neck and shoulder, soaks in the scent of his mate as his thrusts buck and stutter until he's burying himself as deep in Jinyoung as he can and coming inside him, pumping his hips minutely with every pulse of his orgasm.

Jinyoung holds him, arms wrapped loosely around his neck and knees notched around Jaebum’s narrow waist like they belong there. He's murmuring something Jaebum can't distinguish, the words melting into something unintelligible but soothing that washes over him and makes him feel less like he's about to shake apart.

Jaebum lifts himself on wobbling arms and looks down between them as he slips out of Jinyoung, exhaling loudly at the oversensitivity. He swallows hard at how Jinyoung’s entrance is left shining with his come.

“You didn't come,” he says hoarsely.

“No,” Jinyoung replies, sounding worn out himself. “But you don't have to — ”

“Do you want me to?” Jaebum interrupts. Jinyoung has given so much, was willing to do this with him even though it would've been easier the other way around, even though Jaebum’s body is literally made for this — partly because he likes it, obviously, but partly to give Jaebum that closeness he craves so deeply without forcing him to confront parts of himself he isn't ready for. The least Jaebum can do is get him off in return.

And there's still that part of his brain, that animalistic piece of him, that wants nothing more than to hear his mate’s moans and know he's the cause of them.

So when Jinyoung gives him a tiny nod, Jaebum immediately drops down and presses a kiss to the head of Jinyoung’s cock.

“Oh.” Jinyoung’s voice cracks on the single syllable. “You don't — You can use your hands.”

Jaebum ignores him and gives a tentative lick to the delicate skin right beneath the head, reveling in the broken sigh it draws from Jinyoung. He wraps his hand around the base, angling it toward him so he can take the head into his mouth. Jinyoung is thick enough that even this much makes Jaebum question his ambition. But when he lets his tongue work clumsily at what he can fit into his mouth, when he takes a few more inches and then drags his lips back slowly over the shaft and lets the head pop out of his mouth with a wet little _smack,_ he opens his eyes to see Jinyoung staring at him slack-mouthed and reverent.

“You're doing so well,” he groans, and it should probably be patronizing, but it's been so, so long since Jaebum felt good at anything that the words only steel his resolve to make Jinyoung feel as good as he'd felt.

He redoubles his efforts. He doesn't bother trying to take too much into his mouth; no matter how much he practices, he's never going to be able to fit everything. Instead, he draws on the way he likes it and tries to replicate it on Jinyoung. Tongue dragging up the underside up to the slit, mouthing right at the tip, cheeks hollowed to suck as best he can with how full he is. It's mesmerizing in a way, and Jaebum finds himself getting lost in the bob of his head and the slide of Jinyoung’s cock over his tongue and between his lips.

Through it all, Jinyoung talks. Praise falls from his lips so easily, and Jaebum clings to it. It's pleasure in its own right, different from how he's taking care of Jinyoung, but deeply satisfying all the same.

He can tell when Jinyoung’s getting close, that same sensitivity that drew Jaebum in at the start making his thighs tense and his voice tremble. His voice wavers and every breath is edged with a groan and he reaches down and strokes Jaebum’s hair to warn him, “I'm going to — Jaebum — ”

There's a part of Jaebum, competitive and completionist, that makes him want to continue until the end, finish Jinyoung with his mouth. But it's daunting, the idea of letting Jinyoung fill him up when his jaw is already aching from the feel of him.

So he slips his mouth off the tip, blushing a little as a string of saliva stretches between his sensitive lips and the head of Jinyoung’s cock, and he tries his best to make Jinyoung feel as good as he can with his hands. His strokes are wet and sloppy, aided by his own spit and Jinyoung’s precome. It should be disgusting, but he can't bring himself to mind when Jinyoung’s head falls back and he lets out a strangled whimper.

“Jaebum,” he groans, tensing and curling forward as he comes across Jaebum’s hand and his own stomach, mess dripping hot and slick between Jaebum’s fingers. He's biting his lip, brow furrowed and eyes squeezed closed, and he almost looks like he's in pain if it weren't for the tiny moans he lets out with every shot of come.

Jaebum never thought he'd find a sight like this beautiful, but Jinyoung was right — he's very good at being unexpected.

Afterward, Jaebum isn't quite sure what to do with himself. He's filthy, oil on his cock and come on his hand, and he's almost afraid to move on the bed in case he spreads the mess over the sheets.

Jinyoung leans over toward the pitcher of water on the chest of drawers, dampens a corner of his robe, and beckons Jaebum closer. They're silent save for their labored breathing as Jinyoung carefully swipes the fabric over Jaebum’s hand and then down between his legs. He keeps his touch light and quick but thorough, and Jaebum relaxes under it.

Once they're both clean, Jinyoung settles back onto the bed with a tired sigh. Jaebum hovers awkwardly. He's torn between what his body wants and — some distant reservations he can't remember right now, something about pride or protecting himself or —

“I think,” Jinyoung says softly, the first words he's uttered since he moaned Jaebum’s name, “that if that's how you want to be mine, I would be very happy with that.”

It startles a laugh out of Jaebum and his misgivings slip away like melting snow. He clambers up the bed and buries his face into Jinyoung’s neck, inhaling deeply and melting into his mate’s side. Jinyoung’s body is sweltering against his, but Jaebum throws a leg over Jinyoung’s to tangle them together.

“I think I would too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long, y'all :c hopefully the longer chapter helps make up for at least some of it! thank you for being so patient and still continuing to be so wonderfully supportive even when the updates take a little longer to come out because real life stuff gets in the way ♡ i will say that in my defense i said i'd update in july and (at least where i live) it is still technically july :P


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much to [cel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryliner), [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/pseuds/serendipitee), [cherry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oathskeeper), and as always [mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bias_wrecked) for cheerleading, hand-holding, and helping me as i sent them ten different versions of a paragraph to check if it was really good enough this time ♡

Hongbin wrinkles his nose as soon as Jaebum walks into the entrance hall the next morning. “You reek of alpha.”

“You’re just jealous someone other than you is getting laid,” Jaebum replies as he takes the last few steps to where Hongbin is standing, dressed in his riding gear with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"Well," says Hongbin, eyeing Jinyoung as he follows Jaebum down the staircase. "Wouldn't be the first time someone here got jealous, would it?"

"You're right," Jinyoung says primly. "Mark definitely has a possessiveness problem."

"Who the hell is Mark?" Hongbin asks. "How many of you are there?"

"Too many," Jaebum says darkly. "I've been letting them go easy on you."

"We could always sic Hakyeon on him," Jinyoung offers.

Hongbin quirks an eyebrow. "Your hunting hound?"

Jinyoung shrugs. "Close enough."

“We’ll save Hakyeon for the next time he visits,” Jaebum says.

“Is that an invitation, Your Majesty?” Hongbin says, voice dripping with faux humility. “I’ve never been so honored in my life.”

“Yeah, it’s an invitation to go fuck yourself,” Jaebum replies. “Get the hell out of my castle.”

Hongbin raises his eyebrows. “Oh, it’s _your_ castle, now?”

Jaebum’s voice freezes in his throat. He’d said it without thinking, but that one tiny word seems to blossom and branch until it looms before him, towering and undeniable.

There's warmth at his side — Jinyoung stepping close, his palm flat against the small of Jaebum's back, as if he's guiding him down the aisle again. His touch is grounding, as always.

"Yeah." Jaebum finds his words after a beat that feels like an eternity but was probably the blink of an eye. "It is, and I'll throw your ass out in the cold next time I get the chance."

Hongbin snorts. "Didn't you just tell me it was nice out as far as you were concerned?” He turns to Jinyoung and adds, “Watch out, I think this one’s starting to lose it.”

Jinyoung looks taken aback to be addressed so casually by Jaebum’s friend, and he carefully says, “I think he’s doing all right, myself.”

“That’s what I thought too when I first met him,” Hongbin says very seriously. “And now look at him. Soft around the edges and rolling over for an alpha — ”

“Oh, get the hell out of here,” Jaebum snaps, swiping at Hongbin’s shoulder.

Hongbin yelps and clutches at his shoulder even though Jaebum didn’t brush him. “If this is the sort of violence you promote here — ”

“Here?” Jaebum scoffs. “I learned this from you.”

“I beg your pardon,” Hongbin says, affronted. “I believe you were the one who threatened to have me beheaded once a week when we were kids — ”

“It sounds like you were both delightful children,” Jinyoung cuts in smoothly. “But if anyone’s going to be beheaded, please do it off the castle grounds. Mother would be horribly upset if the carpet got stained.”

Hongbin barks out a laugh. “Jaebum wasn’t lying then, was he?”

Jinyoung quirks an eyebrow. “About what?”

Hongbin shakes his head, smile still lingering around the corners of his mouth as he takes in the pair of them standing side by side. “You aren’t as soft as you seem. And he” — He points at Jaebum. — “isn’t nearly as sharp as he used to be.”

“Yeah, it’s a marriage made in heaven,” Jaebum says sarcastically. “Are you done matchmaking now?”

“As if I’d spend any of my precious free time thinking about your love life without you two shoving it down my throat,” Hongbin replies. “I need to get back to Solune where no one I’m friends with is married and disgusting.”

“Sure,” Jaebum says with a smirk. “Go back to Solune where you don’t have any friends.”

“Not like I have any friends here to speak of,” Hongbin says with a huff, turning on his heel.

"Wait." Jaebum bites his lip as his mind shifts from trading barbs with Hongbin to the roll of parchment he’s fidgeting with. He holds it out to Hongbin. "Take this with you."

Hongbin scoffs. "A love letter for me? I know you're getting soft, but this is a little far even for you — "

"It's for Youngjae," Jaebum says lowly, uncharacteristically serious for a conversation with his best friend. "I — just get it to him?"

Hongbin's mouth snaps shut as his eyes fall to the letter. He nods wordlessly and takes it.

"Make sure he's — you know."

"I know," Hongbin replies. "You sappy bastard."

As Hongbin is riding off, the hooves of his horse kicking up a cloud of dust that trails after him, Jinyoung leans in and murmurs, "You're going to see him again soon, you know."

"I could go years without seeing Hongbin," Jaebum says even as he watches with hawk's eyes as his friend's figure growing smaller and smaller.

Jinyoung chuckles. "I wasn't talking about Hongbin."

At the thought of seeing Youngjae again soon, Jaebum's heart clenches in his chest. It's been a distant longing since he came, but having the possibility dangling right before him like low-hanging fruit only makes the sharp yearning for his brother impossible to ignore.

“Hey.” Jinyoung’s shoulder bumps lightly against Jaebum’s. “I have something I think might make you feel better. Want to see?”

Jaebum sighs, trying to let the heavy weight of longing go with the breath. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

Jinyoung leads him up the familiar path to the library in the East Tower. The place he first met Jackson, the place Jaebum found him after his heat, the place he dozed on Jinyoung’s shoulder while cocooned in his scent. When they step in, a surprised meow greets them. Jaebum’s eyes land on Nora curled up in the loveseat he’d shared with Jinyoung those weeks ago. A smile stretches across his face without thought as he makes his way to her and crouches down until he can look into her sleepy blue eyes.

“Jinyoung was right,” he murmurs. “Seeing you definitely makes me feel better.”

She lets out a muted chirp and stretches lazily on her side, curving back like a parenthesis.

There’a chuckle from behind him and Jaebum turns to see Jinyoung’s eyes crinkled into a smile over the hand he’s holding up to his mouth.

“That was actually a happy coincidence that she’s here,” he admits. “I guess she knew you needed her.”

Jaebum looks fondly back down at her where she’s settled into a rather silly and almost human pose, sitting on her haunches with her forelegs sprawled in front of her tummy. “She’s always been good at things like that.”

Jinyoung’s footsteps pad across the thick rug until he’s standing next to Jaebum, beside the small table next to the seat. “What I actually wanted to show you is here.” He reaches out and picks up the book set atop the table and holds it out to Jaebum. “I found this and thought of you.”

Jaebum stands and takes the volume and turns it around the right way to read the title — _Stories from the South: Legends and Lore._ The leather binding creaks as he opens its gilded pages, the parchment wafer thin and delicately painted gold on its edges. When his eyes land on the title of the first story, he huffs out a laugh he can’t quite define — somewhere between pleased, stunned, and lost for words.

“‘The Thirsty Tenant.’” He flips ahead until he finds the tiny illustration that marks the end of the story, scans over the words above it, and chuckles. “Yeah, this is an original version, like the one we had.”

Jinyoung tilts his head questioningly. “Original? What would they change?”

“A lot of the stories are...kind of horrifying,” Jaebum admits as he flips back to the beginning. “Before Youngjae learned how to read, I always used to change the endings so he wouldn’t have nightmares.” He laughs. “And then once he did know how to read, he’d call me out if I tried to change the story. ‘Hyung,’” he mimics Youngjae’s distinctive whine. “‘I can see you’re not reading it properly! I’m not a baby, hyung!’”

Jinyoung giggles, resting his head on Jaebum’s shoulder to look at the book with him. “You’re so protective,” he murmurs. “A good brother.”

Warmth rushes through Jaebum’s cheeks at the kind words and he coughs and clears his throat, blinking down at the page before him. “This — uh, this story in particular is pretty bad,” he says quickly.

“Oh, really?” With the way his chin is tucked almost into the curve of Jaebum’s neck, Jinyoung must be able to feel how Jaebum tensed up with shyness.

“Yeah, it’s about these travelers who go to an inn and there’s no room but — well, actually there’s room but that’s the point, is that — ”

“Jaebum?” Jinyoung cuts off his rambling. “Would you read it to me?”

“I — ” Jaebum swallows. “That sounds nice.”

“We could go out to the gardens to read if you want,” Jinyoung offers.

Jaebum isn’t sure why Jinyoung remembering his fondness for the outdoors makes his heart feel so light, makes it thrum in his chest like a hummingbird’s. Distantly, he’s grateful Jinyoung is standing behind him and can’t see his expression. “I would like that,” he replies. “Very much.”

“I would too,” Jinyoung says, and Jaebum can hear the smile in his voice. “And Jaebum?”

“Yeah?”

There’s a puff of air against his neck as Jinyoung giggles. “Don’t change the endings for me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The gardens look so vastly different from Jaebum’s first days in Cerisale. He recalls his confusion at the needles of the hedges, the way he’d reached out and made himself bleed, and shakes his head and smiles. Everything is awash in warmth, the silence of blanketing snow traded for the hum of life throughout the gardens. Leaves rustle, birds chirp, the air itself seems to shimmer and dance with sunlight and vitality, the earth springy beneath Jaebum’s feet as they step off the path to sit beneath his favorite gnarled tree.

There are points of warmth like starbursts along Jaebum’s body as he leans against the broad trunk, not minding the prickle and poke of the bark through his thin clothing. There’s the sunlight beaming onto his feet sticking out of the tree’s shade, the press of Jinyoung’s head into his lap as he lies half on top of Jaebum’s thighs, the fullness that swells inside Jaebum’s heart with every intake of breath.

He’d been surprised at first when Jinyoung laid his head in his lap, wondering for a fleeting moment if there were underlying expectations, if Jinyoung was anticipating more after what they've done together; but Jinyoung simply melts against him, reminding Jaebum of a cat lying in the sun.

Jaebum holds the book by its spine with one hand and turns its pages with the other as he reads, letting his voice dip into a low, smoky timbre that reminds him of early bedtimes and happy endings. Whenever he pauses to flip to the next page, his eyes flicker over the top of the book. Jinyoung’s face is right there, tantalizing, speckled with sunlight and the shadows of leaves as if he’s been lovingly painted in careful strokes, drawing Jaebum’s eyes down the curve of his cheek squished against Jaebum’s thigh, his lips pushed out in even more of a defined pout than usual. He looks almost unbearably sweet, like he’d make Jaebum’s teeth ache at the same time he’d beg for more.

It reminds Jaebum of all the times he’s looked at Jinyoung and thought, perhaps in another world. Another life. Different circumstances, and then perhaps Jaebum would have felt something for Jinyoung. Perhaps if, instead of all the wrappings they’ve found themselves tangled in, Jinyoung could simply have been the boy with the silly laugh and the oversized ears and the kitten smile —

And Jaebum’s world tilts ever so slightly, like the rays of dawn finally breaking over the horizon, like the world shifting from one season to the next, and he realizes that Jinyoung is still that boy.

He’s still that boy, and he’s so much more.

He’s a man, the man Jaebum was handed to, freshly plucked from his home with thorns like razors on every inch of him. The man who took took a step forward and two steps back with Jaebum but stayed by his side the entire journey anyway, who let Jaebum’s barbed words sink past skin-deep until he took them to heart, grew with Jaebum painfully and gradually, both of them aching with the change. The man who was too gentle to mark Jaebum on his first try, the man who let Jaebum sit atop him even while in rut, the man who can’t stop himself from smiling whenever Jaebum does. The man who brings him storybooks. The man who pulls laughter out of him. The man who soothes the fears he once inspired in Jaebum.

Jaebum isn’t sure if he ever would have known this man the way he knows him now if they’d met in another life; and suddenly, he isn’t sure if he would even wish for that trade anymore.

“Jaebum?” Jinyoung’s voice lilting in a question snaps Jaebum out of his thoughts. “Why’d you stop reading?”

Jaebum doesn’t know how to put his epiphany into words without trying to compress this feeling of potential into something too certain, too soon. He racks his brain, scrambling for something to say that won’t tip the careful balance they’ve created. Jinyoung is staring up at him with one eye cracked open, and Jaebum feels like he can see straight through him. Panicked, Jaebum blurts, “When’s your next rut going to be?”

Jinyoung blinks blearily, as if he’d been dozing. “Are you telling me,” he says slowly, “that you were reading me a story about a dead woman who sucks the breath out of the living...and it made you think about my ruts?”

“I — they aren’t necessarily related,” Jaebum says hastily. “It’s just...something that’s been on my mind, I guess.”

Jinyoung’s lips turn down in a small frown. “You don’t need to worry about it, you know that, right?” he asks. “Just because we spent the last one the way we did — ”

“I know,” Jaebum reassures him and then he snorts. “Also, considering what we’ve done outside of...you know, I don’t think you need to worry about some dry humping being too much.”

Jinyoung groans and smacks Jaebum’s thigh. “Don’t call it dry humping,” he protest. “That makes us sound like hormonal teenagers.”

“Hormonal adults,” Jaebum corrects, jerking his leg slightly so it jolts Jinyoung off of him and onto the grass. He laughs at Jinyoung’s disgruntled pout.

Jinyoung huffs as he respositions his head stubbornly on Jaebum’s lap. “My next rut won’t be for a while, anyway,” he says. “Probably not for another year or so. Your next heat will come a lot sooner, as long as you’re healthy and all.”

Jaebum’s breath freezes in his throat. He keeps forgetting, even weeks after presenting and moving to Cerisale and being mated to an alpha, about certain parts of his biology. It still feels foreign in a way, although he isn’t sure if it’s entirely due to the fact that he doesn’t have experience with it. He’s starting to suspect it might have more to do with the fact that he was never taught much about omegas beyond the whispered rumors whenever an alpha in the court disappeared for a few days and nobility and courtesans alike giggled behind their hands about _needy omega mates._ That, or the royal advisors explaining to him precisely why he was no longer fit for the role he’d been groomed for all his life.

“I forgot about that,” he confesses. “It’s not something I’m used to worrying about.”

Jinyoung makes a sympathetic noise. “It was like that for me with my ruts, too. Especially since it isn’t exactly an event you can pinpoint on a calendar. I mean, it’s more or less a year between ruts for me, but different things can trigger it a little earlier. Stress, big life events,” — He meets Jaebum’s eye and smirks. — “being around omegas in heat.”

Jaebum coughs to hide his embarrassment. “Well, if that’s how you’re going to be, I could blame you for triggering my heat in the first place by _biting_ me.”

“Blaming me for your heat?” Jinyoung teases. “That’s just low.” Despite the words he picks seeming lighthearted, there’s a faltering in his voice as his eyes search Jaebum’s face.

It really wasn’t so long ago that he would’ve accused Jinyoung of something like this in complete seriousness, Jaebum realizes. The thought makes guilt curl in his gut at how he’d spoken to Jinyoung when he’d probably seen it as playfulness or trying to understand.

Jinyoung is different. Jaebum had no way of knowing it before, but he is. He’s so completely separate from the world Jaebum had known. There was no precedent for him, but now everyone else pales in comparison. It’s funny, Jaebum thinks, how much can change with patience and an open heart.

“Well,” Jaebum says, trying to bring the mood up from where they’ve both fallen tense at memories of past conversation. “Someone has to take the fall, don’t they?” To ensure Jinyoung knows he’s joking, Jaebum reaches out and tugs on his ear playfully, pulling a whine from him.

Jinyoung swats at Jaebum’s hand. Between that and his pout, he looks more like a kitten than ever, and Jaebum can’t stop himself from chuckling.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jinyoung wheedles. “I was trying to teach you and this is how you treat me — ”

“Oh, forgive me, teacher,” Jaebum says in mock seriousness. “Please continue the lesson.”

“I don’t know if I should,” Jinyoung says, crossing his arms and digging his head into Jaebum’s thigh.

“ _Please._ ” Sarcasm drips off every word. “Bestow your wisdom upon me, oh wise one — ”

Jinyoung is giggling, turning his face into Jaebum’s thigh. “Sarcasm will get you nowhere.”

“How about flattery?” Jaebum offers.

“Well,” Jinyoung replies. “I certainly wouldn’t say no to that.”

Jaebum takes a breath, ready to start laying it on thick, but the words catch in his throat. _Beautiful,_ is at his lips. _Lovely, gorgeous, clever, funny, kind._ He can’t find a compliment to give Jinyoung in jest that he hasn’t thought genuinely. He swallows and then manages, “You have good taste in wine.”

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Jinyoung asks, sounding affronted.

Jaebum blinks. “No?”

Jinyoung raises his eyebrows. “Go on, then.”

“Well.” Jaebum tilts his head and looks down at Jinyoung contemplatively. “You’re very pretty. But I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“It doesn’t hurt to hear it again.” Jinyoung’s eyes are closed and a pleased smile curls the corners of his lips, visibly preening.

“You’re clever,” Jaebum says. “Even when you mock people, it’s funny.”

“I think you mean ‘especially when.’”

“Whatever you say.” Jaebum reaches out and plucks the blossom stuck under Jinyoung’s collar. On a whim, he places it behind Jinyoung’s ear instead, pale against the rich black of his hair and the warmth of his skin. “You’re...thoughtful. Even though you’re sharp, you aren’t cruel.” Jaebum carefully brushes back a lock of hair so it holds the flower in place. “Beautiful,” he breathes.

The smug glimmer in Jinyoung’s eyes has shifted, changed into something softer and quieter as he takes in Jaebum’s words.

Jaebum looks away and picks at a blade of grass. “Was that flattery satisfactory?”

Jinyoung murmurs, “Yeah, that — that’ll do.” There’s a quick little inhale, exhale, like he’s preparing himself, and he says, “So, where did we leave off?”

“Ah, my next heat coming sooner than your rut, I think.” He tears up some of the grass and sprinkles it in Jinyoung’s hair, earning him a elbow to the hip.

“Right.” Jinyoung ruffles his hair, leaving it mussed with a few blades of grass still sticking out of his fringe. “Well, since you’ve only had the one, you probably won’t be regular yet. It’ll take a while for you to be able to rely on a cycle, but I’ll be here to help you through it.” When Jaebum looks up, Jinyoung’s the one looking away this time, his cheeks stained pink as he stares steadfastly up at the branches above them instead of at Jaebum. “Whatever that entails.”

Jaebum sighs. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” Jinyoung agrees. “You might start having preheat symptoms that could help you know if it’s coming a few days before. Chills, soreness, irritability — ”

“How will we know when the last one’s a symptom if it’s just how I usually am?” Jaebum asks.

Jinyoung snorts. “If you’d asked me that a month or two ago, I would’ve agreed. But you’re not so irritable now. I can usually get a smile out of you if I try hard enough.”

“You have a point,” Jaebum admits.

“I know I do,” Jinyoung replies. “But if you notice any of those, you might want to start making plans to be...laid up for a few days. At least, from what I know.”

From what you know, Jaebum thinks. There’s something about the casual knowledge that Jinyoung holds about omegas that twists a little strangely in Jaebum’s gut. There’s the fact that Jaebum feels like he should know this himself without having an alpha tell him, of course, the shame of not knowing how his own body works.

But beyond that, there’s an ugly feeling winding its way through Jaebum’s chest as Jinyoung recounts his knowledge that seems strangely detailed. Jealousy, he realizes. Jealousy at the idea of Jinyoung spending that time of the month with omegas other than him, at the idea that this isn’t something specific to the two of them.

It hadn’t bothered him before, the thought of Jinyoung with other people, or at least the thought of them being the ones to fuck him. It registers in his mind as just normal sex, the same sort of thing Jaebum had done in Solune. But when Jaebum thinks of heat, he thinks of the clawing need for closeness, the intimacy of sharing such a vulnerable moment, the way he’d called Jinyoung _alpha_ without even thinking. He can feel his face pull into a grimace at the thought — not of him saying that to Jinyoung, but of someone else doing it in his place.

There’s a brush against his cheek, and Jaebum blinks to see Jinyoung reaching up, stroking his jawline with the backs of his knuckles.

“What’s that face for?” Jinyoung murmurs. “Like I said, I know it’s a lot, so we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to — ”

He seems so gentle in this moment, so tender that Jaebum can’t imagine him mounting an omega, can’t imagine him in any way other than this: head in Jaebum’s lap, cherry blossom behind his ear, his touch careful against Jaebum’s face.

“Just — ” Jaebum closes his eyes and turns his face into Jinyoung’s hand, like that day weeks ago when he’d been smothered in his own scent and suffocating in need. The curve of Jinyoung’s palm is familiar now, satin soft and plump. “You seem like you know a lot about this.”

“I had...a bit of a phase,” Jinyoung admits shyly. “It makes me sound like kind of a creep, probably.”

“I — I don’t think it makes you a creep,” Jaebum says stiffly. He almost winces at how apparent the unhappiness is in his voice. “I mean, you’re allowed to do what you want. Live your life.”

“I guess,” Jinyoung says uncertain. “I mean, in my defense, I wasn’t doing it to be weird, I just wanted to know more so I’d be ready when I ended up with my mate.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says with a forced smile. “Makes sense.”

“I do think some of the servants may have ended up noticing,” Jinyoung says with a grimace. “I suppose that’s what I get for being careless.”

“Careless?” Jaebum asks. It’s hard to imagine Jinyoung being anything but cautious, but he can almost see it — a hormonal boy, fumbling with someone just as inexperienced as him — or maybe more experienced than him — more experienced than _Jaebum_ —

“I would leave them on my nightstand sometimes and they’d be gone when I got back, probably cleaned up by servants — ”

“You would leave them — hold on, what?” Jaebum demands. “What are you talking about?”

Jinyoung blinks up at him in confusion. “Books? What did you think I was talking about?”

“I — ” Jaebum splutters for a moment before managing, “Books aren’t creepy, Jinyoung.”

“People might think I was a creep if they caught me reading books about omega biology specifically,” Jinyoung protests. “There were _diagrams,_ Jaebum.”

“Oh, god forbid,” Jaebum says. “ _Diagrams._ ”

“Well,” Jinyoung says with a huff. “If you think that’s so funny, then what did you have in mind that was so scandalous?”

“I — nothing,” Jaebum says hastily. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, no.” Jinyoung sits up so they’re eye to eye, hair still mussed with blades of grass scattered through it and the cherry blossom perched behind his ear. “You got your chance to laugh, now I get mine.”

Jaebum groans. “Let’s not.” When he sees the determined look on Jinyoung’s face, he lets his head fall back against the trunk of the tree and sighs. “Fine. I just thought you meant...you’d had experience with omegas in heat. That’s all.”

Instead of the expected laugh, Jaebum gets a small “oh." Jinyoung looks down. “I’ve never spent a heat with anyone,” he confides. “I mean, not until you.”

Jaebum opens his mouth and then shuts it. The revelation that Jinyoung had been, at least on some level, more similar to him than he realized hits him surprisingly hard. “What about your ruts?”

“I’d never spent them with anyone before, either,” Jinyoung admits. “It’s not as overwhelming when you aren’t bonded, you know, you can kind of tough it out on your own. Which is what I did, and part of why I thought I could just stay away from you and we’d be fine, but — ”

“But it’s different when you’re bonded,” Jaebum finishes for him quietly. “Yeah, that — that makes sense.”

“Still.” Jinyoung bites his lip, rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I left you like that. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you through the beginning.”

“It’s okay,” Jaebum reassures him before smiling wryly. “If we couldn’t understand people not knowing things, we’d both be in trouble, wouldn’t we?”

Jinyoung laughs. “You’re not wrong.”

“So, is it just going to be pretty similar to last time?” Jaebum asks. “The heat, I mean.”

Jinyoung shrugs. “Hopefully, it won’t get as bad when we don’t stay away from each other. And I won’t be in rut, so...we should be in the clear as far as communicating, probably. As long as we know what we’re planning on doing.”

Jaebum raises his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting we plan out heat sex? Like a schedule?”

“No! No,” Jinyoung says hastily. “I just mean what you’re comfortable with. Tell me ahead of time so I don’t assume you want something just because you ask for it in heat.”

“Something? Like — oh.” Jaebum feels a flush prickle across his cheeks as he realizes what Jinyoung’s talking about.

He isn’t sure what to think of it. On the one hand, it’s a first, one that feels foreign to him, as foreign as his heat had seemed before it hit him. On the other hand, it’s not his first first with Jinyoung, not even their first _shared_ first, and Jinyoung’s cautiousness around him, the feeling of safety he exudes, makes the idea of giving another first to him seem less daunting. Rather than a sheer cliffside, Jaebum feels like he’s standing over clear blue waters with Jinyoung holding his arms out and telling him — not that he has to jump, but that he’ll be there if he does.

For the time being, Jaebum says, “Right now...I’m not sure. I like what we’ve done?” The timidity in his own voice makes him wrinkle his nose, and he adds more firmly, “I’ll think about it. We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” Jinyoung agrees. “There’s no rush.” The sincerity in his voice means as much as his words, settling over Jaebum comfortably at the same time as Jinyoung lays his head back in his lap.

Jaebum looks down at Jinyoung and words fail him.

“Well?” Jinyoung cocks his head, pressing it more firmly to Jaebum’s thigh. “Will you read to me some more?”

Jaebum smiles. “Of course.” And he lifts the book again and finds the words he needs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s with a promise of meeting in their quarters and the ghost of a kiss lingering on his lips that Jaebum makes his way to the library to set the book where Jinyoung had left it. He feels weirdly light, as if he's carrying the spring sunshine with him instead of the weight he's felt for weeks.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t be shocked that the universe decides to throw Hakyeon in his path as he enters the library. It feels almost like a cosmic test, now that he feels comfortable with Jinyoung.

"Oh, Jaebum, good!" Hakyeon's face lights up as soon as he sees him. “I was hoping you’d be around here.”

Jaebum isn't sure if it's because he's still feeling calm and warm from his afternoon with Jinyoung, but Hakyeon doesn't seem nearly as intimidating a figure as he did when Jaebum first arrived. He still commands attention — Jaebum feels himself standing straighter when Hakyeon addresses him — but there isn't anxiety simmering beneath Jaebum's skin as their eyes meet.

"Hakyeon," he says with a nod. "And Mark," he adds with a smile when he sees the other brother at Hakyeon's side.

"I've been looking for Jinyoung," Hakyeon says. "I'm assuming he's been with you all day?"

Jaebum blinks, wondering if the way he feels like he's walking on clouds is that obvious just from looking at him. "How could you tell?"

Mark taps his nose. "It's obvious to me, at least."

"Well, there's that," Hakyeon says. "But I also just haven't been able to track Jinyoung down lately at all because someone's been jeopardizing all his time." He raises his eyebrows at Jaebum.

Instead of feeling attacked, though, Jaebum simply feels a flush of embarrassment at Hakyeon's accurate assessment. He hadn't even realized how much time he and Jinyoung have been spending together — with the preparations for the festival and then everything they've done since, he supposes there really hasn't been that much time for Jinyoung to spend with his brothers. "Husband privileges," he settles on saying.

Hakyeon and Mark both laugh, and Jaebum finds himself smiling along with them. It isn't like talking to Hongbin. It is nice, though.

"Do you know where I could find our dear Jinyoungie, though, Jaebum?" Hakyeon asks. "I do actually have important things to talk to him about."

"Ah, we were going to meet in our quarters, once I'd gotten the book we were reading back to the library," Jaebum says. "So I'd assume he's there."

"Perfect," Hakyeon says, patting Jaebum's shoulder in thanks so lightly that Hakyeon is already sweeping away up the stairs before he realizes what's happened. It's a friendly touch, and for the first time, Jaebum doesn't feel like Hakyeon puts his hackles up just by existing. Instead, it feels kind, brotherly. Jaebum doubts that Hakyeon's actions have changed that much in a matter of weeks.

"Look at that," Mark says as if he's remarking on the weather. "A civil conversation. Our family grows."

Jaebum snorts. "It only took a month after the wedding."

Mark shrugs. “I mean, considering we were starting from rock bottom, it’s been pretty fast, if you think about it. I know I would’ve held a grudge for longer if I’d been in your position, but I get the feeling my temper is more of a slow burn than yours.”

“Well,” Jaebum admits, “most people’s are.”

“And yet, here you are,” Mark says. “Hakyeon gives you a pat on the shoulder and no burn at all."

"That you can see," Jaebum jokes.

"Right, because you're so good at hiding when you're upset," Mark says wryly. "I mean, remember during your heat — "

"No," Jaebum interrupts. "I don't remember."

Mark smirks. "Maybe I should refresh your memory — "

"You know, I think we're all right without doing that," Jaebum says loudly.

"And here I was just trying to be helpful," Mark says.

"Right. Helpful." Jaebum coughs. “Actually, on the topic of heats and being helpful — ”

Mark frowns. “Please tell me you’re not asking me to help with your heats. I’m a taken man, Jaebum — ”

“Help with — oh, _fuck_ no,” Jaebum yelps. “I just meant I had questions, Jesus — ”

“Wouldn’t Jackson be better to talk to about this?” Mark asks.

“Probably,” Jaebum says. “But I’d rather not deal with his...enthusiasm right now.”

“Maybe you need his enthusiasm,” Mark replies. “It’s contagious.”

“I — enthusiasm isn’t what I need, I need answers,” Jaebum says exasperatedly.

“About what?” Mark asks. “If you’re wondering about omega biology during heat — ”

“That’s not — I mean, it’s not _only_ the omega stuff I’m wondering about.” Admitting it makes Jaebum’s face burn, but it has less to do with acknowledging the fact that he experiences heat and more to do with the intimacy of the topic he’s brought to his brother-in-law when they’ve hardly talked.

“So you’re wondering about...alpha stuff, then?” Mark says slowly.

“I — yeah.” Jaebum clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well. Um.” Jaebum stares at a slightly wonky brick in the wall. “So, uh, knotting. What’s up with that?”

Mark barks out a surprised laugh. “What’s up with that?” he repeats, amused.

“I just — it seems like a lot,” Jaebum hedges.

“It is,” Mark agrees. “But it’s not like your body isn’t made to handle it.”

“Okay, but technically a lot of people are made to handle childbirth,” Jaebum says. “And people die from that.”

Mark is absolutely laughing at him now, grinning as he says, “You’re not going to die from Jinyoung’s knot, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I — stop laughing at me,” Jaebum pleads. He’s never had an older brother before, but suddenly Jinyoung’s whininess when he’s teased makes sense, if this is what he grew up with. “I don’t think I’m going to _die_ from it, I just — how long would I be...stuck?”

“God,” Mark says, sounding pained. “You talk about it like you’re getting impaled.”

“I — well.” He and Mark stare at each other for a moment in silence before they suddenly dissolve into snorts of laughter, snickering behind their hands at the less than savory implications of what they’ve said.

When he’s collected himself somewhat, Mark says, “It’s not traumatic. It’s not going to break you or hurt you. Especially in heat, your body knows what to do.”

Jaebum thinks back on the unthinking way he’d rutted back onto Jinyoung, how he’d arched into his touch and addressed him as _alpha._ “That makes sense, I guess.”

“It’s instinctive,” Mark reassures him. “For everyone involved.”

“Yeah?” Jaebum shifts his weight awkwardly. “It’s — what’s it like for you? I mean, for alphas, not you specifically.”

Mark exhales slowly. “Well. He won’t be in rut this time, so he’ll knot every time you — you know.”

“You don’t during rut?” Jaebum asks curiously.

“No, during rut it’s just...round after round with no knotting until the end of the rut.” Mark grimaces. “There’s basically no downtime, no recovery. There’s a reason alphas and omegas respond to each other so strongly when our mates are in heat or rut. If we didn’t, we probably wouldn’t make it through without having to tap out.”

“So knotting happens...when exactly?” Jaebum asks. He’s always assumed that knots are simply a given when it comes to alphas, especially during ruts; this information is something he’s going to have to process properly later. At least he has almost a year until he has to worry about that, unlike his impending heat.

“It’ll happen every round during your heat,” Mark clarifies. “But there’ll actually be a refractory period. Not as long as outside of heat, but there will be a bit of a breather. For the alpha, at least. You might want to invest in something to fill the time between. I’m sure Jackson could give you some recommendations — ”

“No, that won’t — no,” Jaebum says, voice cracking. He swears there’s a sadistic glimmer in Mark’s eye, and part of him curses the fact that he seems to have married into a family that takes great joy in making him squirm now that it isn’t rooted in genuine discomfort with himself. “I don’t think I — ” He coughs, trying to hide how he’d almost choked on his own saliva at Mark’s words. “This conversation has been very educational. Lots to think about. Very good. I’ll just — go.”

“Glad to help,” Mark says with a smile that shows his almost inhumanly sharp teeth. “If you have any other questions, you can always ask Jackson or me.”

“Right,” Jaebum says, biting back his instinctive response of _I think I would rather go into heat and die of a fever than relive this conversation._ “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for talking to me.”

“I had a great time talking to you,” Mark calls as Jaebum makes a hasty retreat. “We should all spend time together more, instead of just you and Jinyoung holing yourself up in your bedroom to — ”

“That sounds lovely!” Jaebum says with a strained smile, walking away as quickly as he can without breaking into a run. “Definitely looking forward to another conversation!”

When Jaebum returns to their quarters, Jinyoung isn’t there, presumably still with Hakyeon. It’s unsurprising, really, considering Hakyeon’s love for talking.

Jaebum asks Bambam to draw him a bath, which he sinks into gratefully once he’s alone. He’s hoping the hot water and steam might clear his mind, might relax the tension wound through his muscles; but his thoughts continue to race, around and around, circling the one topic he thought he’d never be able to face.

But with the vulnerability Jinyoung’s shown him, the trust he’s earned without demanding it, something that loomed intimidatingly before seems like something Jaebum can scale.

He thinks back on the night they’d spent together. Even then, thrusting into Jinyoung and drawing pretty moans out of his pretty lips, he’d felt that ache when Jinyoung had pressed down on his bite — it’s strange how, even without any experience, he’d known instinctively what his body wanted. Even now, without any frame of reference, the thought alone makes him shift slightly in the tub. Not even remembering Jinyoung’s considerable size dampens his curiosity. He can’t tell if it’s omega instinct, to find alpha traits like that attractive, or if that’s something that appeals to him specifically.

He exhales slowly, running his hands from his knees up his thighs and then back down again, water sluicing down his skin in their wake. The slide of his palms against his legs is wet and warm.

He thinks of Jinyoung.

He thinks of the lean strength of his body beneath him during his heat, the headiness of his scent, the strength of his grip as he’d guided Jaebum’s hips to grind down against him. That alone has Jaebum’s cock filling out, sensitive enough to make his breath catch when he squeezes his thighs together and rubs it between them. He reaches down to push the heel of his hand against the head, pressing it into the clench of his own thighs. It wouldn’t be enough to get him off, but it is enough to send a shiver of pleasure through him, enough to let him pay attention to how his body reacts to the arousal starting to seep into his gut.

And instead of being preoccupied with the slide of his fist around his cock, Jaebum lets himself feel. He feels how the arousal unfurls inside his belly in a way he’s never fully appreciated, tingling and sensitive. When he thinks about Jinyoung’s length pressed against him or his hand against his bite, he can feel himself clench and pulse. He can feel when he starts to get wet, even in the bath, the slick feel of it between his cheeks so different from the glide of water.

Instead of letting embarrassment or shame overtake him, he thinks of Jinyoung’s fingers, shining wet with Jaebum’s slick and his own spit as Jinyoung kitten licked at them. He remembers the ghost of Jinyoung’s touch between his cheeks, and for the first time he dares to imagine Jinyoung going further. He imagines Jinyoung pressing the pads of his fingers against his rim and the thought makes him throb, makes him swear he can feel his pulse in his lower half.

He takes a deep breath and opens his thighs.

Looking down at his body, the image distorted slightly by the water, it almost feels distant enough for him to push away the implications the way he has been. But when his hand dips down and brushes against his sac, sending a tingle through him, the familiar sensation grounds him. This is his body he’s touching, and even if it’s new and a little frightening it’s — it’s _good._ Or at least, it is so far.

He keeps going, fingertips trailing over the sensitive skin of his taint until he reaches his entrance. His fingers are thicker than Jinyoung’s, not the slender taper that he finds so pretty, but if he thinks hard enough about Jinyoung, he can pretend. He can pretend that the fingertip circling over his rim is Jinyoung being gentle with him like he always is. He wonders if Jinyoung might try to take his mind off it the first time by suckling at his cock.

And fuck, if that isn’t a thought — Jinyoung’s plush lips wrapped around his shaft, his clever tongue put to good use, his eyes wide and playful as they meet Jaebum’s. And all the while, his finger teasing at Jaebum’s rim.

The spark of heat that zips through Jaebum’s body at the thought makes him bold, and he slips his finger into himself halfway.

He’d thought it would be...more. Painful, probably, but also just more of a stretch. He draws back and then thrusts in again. It feels like more of a tease than playing with his rim had been, if he’s honest with himself. It makes the idea of taking something larger less daunting.

So he bites his lip and pushes a second finger past his rim. This time, he does feel the stretch, and it pulls a gasp from his lips. It should hurt, he thinks. He always thought it was supposed to hurt, especially the first time.

Instead, it burns, but in a way that skitters across the surface of his skin, and he can feel sweat beading at his temples. Without even thinking, he hitches his knee up over the edge of the tub to give himself a better angle. There’s something innate to it, like a single touch here has awoken an urge to push into himself as deep as he can.

And while his mind is focused primarily on the feeling of his fingers spreading himself open, he’s also registering how he feels inside — soft and wet and giving, made for a cock to slide through. He remembers how Jinyoung had felt around him and he groans, the sound deep in his chest.

God, he wants to make Jinyoung feel that good. He wants to see Jinyoung’s face as he sinks into him, wants to hear his choked noises and bitten-off curses, wants to feel the weight of his mate atop him and know that every strangled breath, every pulse of his cock against his walls is because of him.

Jaebum hears himself moan, but he can’t even find the wherewithal be embarrassed. Not when he’s remembering how thick Jinyoung had felt even in his mouth, not when that memory pushes him to add yet another finger.

He spreads easily around his fingers, and he distantly wonders how many of Jinyoung’s fingers it would take to match the thickness of three of his own. He wonders how many Jinyoung would bother with before simply fucking him properly — and something about the raw desire implied in that, the idea that Jinyoung would want to feel him so badly, makes him wrap his other hand around his cock.

He does his best to match each pull on his cock with the push of his fingers into himself. It’s difficult in the tub, arching his back and straining his thighs so he can drive his fingers into himself, the water making tiny conspicuous splashing noises with every thrust.

But it feels good. It feels right and fulfilling in a way that he’d suspected it might but not wanted to hope for. He can ignore the way his wrist aches at the angle as long as he keeps feeling the stretch, the fullness that comes with fucking himself. He goes faster, deeper, his cock throbbing in his hand every time he pushes in and imagines it’s whatever part of Jinyoung he can get — his fingers, his cock, his knot, Jaebum thinks he’d take almost anything if it feels this good and if Jinyoung kept up a stream of sweet words like he had when Jaebum was sucking him off.

He almost surprises himself when he comes, his orgasm building faster and in a different way than usual. Instead of being centered low around his hips and thighs, it’s deeper and makes his abdomen clench as he works himself between his fingers and his fist until his cock is twitching and spurting come into the water. It feels like it lasts longer than usual as he tightens around his fingers, and he shoves them as deep as he can to ride it out, biting back a whimper. He curls them inside himself, chasing the sensation of them rubbing against his walls as the last dribbles of come spill out.

Even once his cock is spent, softening against his thigh, his body still feels like it’s thrumming as he slips his fingers out. The bathwater is cool by now and he shivers involuntarily as oversensitivity kicks in, but he can’t bring himself to move quite yet. Instead, he settles back, boneless, letting himself bask in the way he feels simultaneously unraveled and centered, like he’s actually aware of his body for the first time.

He exhales heavily as he lets his head fall back against the edge of the tub, trying to find the willpower to stand and get ready for bed. As he lies there, he waits for the rush of shame, but it doesn't come. Instead, there's the relaxed warmth of a satisfying orgasm lingering in his limbs and the excited tingle of discovery buoying his heart; and beyond that, there's anticipation. Of the next time he can feel like this, of what exactly that next time might entail.

It's indescribably good, and his body feels loose and comfortable as he finally forces himself to climb out of the bath, dry himself, and put on a nightshirt before venturing into the bedroom.

“Have a nice bath?”

Jaebum nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Jinyoung’s voice from the direction of their bed, guilt immediately rushing in with fear nipping right at its heels. Can Jinyoung tell what he’s been doing? He turns to face Jinyoung sitting up in their bed and tries to scan his face for clues as to whether or not he’s aware of what Jaebum did in the bath.

If Jinyoung can tell, though, he doesn’t say anything. All he does is pull down the covers on Jaebum’s side and say, “Come to bed.”

Grateful for Jinyoung either not noticing or politely not mentioning the arousal that probably lingers in his scent, Jaebum walks over to the bed and climbs in.

“What did Hakyeon want to talk to you about?” Jaebum asks as he settles under the blankets.

“He just wanted to nag at me about big brother things,” Jinyoung grumbles, shoving his face into his pillow. “And then he took me to talk to Mother.”

“About what?” Jaebum turns on his side to face Jinyoung.

“She wanted to let us know that preparations for our trip to Solune have been made.” Jinyoung is uncharacteristically shifty as he says this, staring at the corner of the pillowcase he’s picking at instead of meeting Jaebum’s eyes. “We can leave in a few days, if you’d like.”

Jaebum blinks. “That was fast.” When Jinyoung doesn’t respond, Jaebum adds, “I mean, we talked about it — what, a day or two ago? And they’ve already arranged accommodations and written to my parents and — wait a second.”

Jinyoung bites his lip and stays silent.

“When did you bring it up to your parents?” Jaebum asks. “It can’t have been only after we talked about it.”

“Well — I would’ve called it off if you’d said no, when I asked,” Jinyoung says, sounding nervous. “And obviously, I wouldn’t have just sprung it on you or anything, I was never trying to keep it a secret from you, it was just — the time was never right to bring it up — ”

“Jinyoung — Jinyoung, slow down,” Jaebum urges, reaching out and laying a hand on Jinyoung’s upper arm. “What do you mean, ‘sprung it on me?’”

Jinyoung sighs. “I mean — I wasn’t trying to go over your head or make you do something. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“Over— ” Jaebum makes in incredulous noise. “Jinyoung, you didn’t overstep by trying to surprise me with a visit to see my family.”

Jinyoung peers up at him. “Really?”

The uncertainty reminds Jaebum uncomfortably of how they used to anxiously dance around each other, every conversation a confrontation. He slides his hand down the length of Jinyoung’s arm until he can weave their fingers together tightly. “Really,” he says firmly. “I — It means a lot to me, actually.”

Jinyoung takes a sharp breath. “You’re sure?”

“Of course,” Jaebum says. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“It’s just...the sort of thing I’d worry about accidentally angering you with. Before, I mean.” Jinyoung sucks his lips between his teeth. “I just...don’t ever want you to feel like you have to do something because of me, or like I’m forcing you to do something.”

“Ah, right,” Jaebum says wryly. “My terrible husband, forcing me to visit my family. What kind of monster — ”

“ _Stop,_ ” Jinyoung whines, bringing their linked hands up to shove at Jaebum’s chest lightly. “I just needed to make sure you were okay with it!”

“Well, I’m okay with it.” Jaebum pulls their hands up to brush his lips along their interwoven fingers. “So stop worrying.”

Jinyoung sighs. “I always worry with you.”

Guilt crawls beneath Jaebum’s skin and he tugs Jinyoung closer until their knees bump beneath the blankets and he can count Jinyoung’s eyelashes. “I appreciate it,” he murmurs. “I really do. Especially after...everything.”

“I’m trying,” Jinyoung whispers.

“You’re doing more than that,” Jaebum replies, lips brushing against their knuckles as he speaks. “You’re — you’re amazing, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung’s ears blush pink and he casts his eyes downward, the corners of his mouth curling up in a small, sweet smile. “I really never thought I’d hear you say something like that.”

“You deserve it,” Jaebum insists.

“And so do you,” Jinyoung counters. “You’re so — I’ve watched you grow so much and so fast, Jaebum. I’ve seen you go from being terrified of even touching me to _this._ ” He squeezes Jaebum’s fingers tighter between his own. “And I’ve seen you go from distrusting even Jackson to being able to sit in a room with our whole family. And I don’t know if you were still afraid then — I’m not sure if you’re still afraid now — ”

“I’m not,” Jaebum says automatically.

“ — but even if you were, or even if you are,” Jinyoung continues, voice quiet but fierce. “Even then, you’re so brave. You’ve been so brave.”

“I — ” Jaebum’s voice sticks in his throat and, mortifyingly, his eyes are starting to prickle. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been kind of awful — ”

“Because you’ve seen awful things before,” Jinyoung says. “When you talk about Solune — I’m not saying your home is terrible, I don’t want you to think I feel that way. But even the fact that you thought of yourself the way you did when you first came here — ” He sighs. “It wasn’t right. And it wasn’t your fault.”

“But the way I treated you,” Jaebum says, shame burning in his stomach at the memory. “The way I treated your family — ”

“You can’t change the past,” Jinyoung interrupts. “But you’ve changed the way you act. You’ve learned how to accept our family and the way we treat you.” He hesitates before adding in a more timid tone, “I hope — I hope you can accept yourself, too.”

His choice of words stirs a memory in Jaebum, one from his first days in Cerisale. _I like you,_ Hakyeon had said. _I hope you can too, someday._ Jaebum hadn’t put it together at the time, half-asleep and exhausted from travel and hazy from Jinyoung’s scent.

But now, it seems painfully apparent that Hakyeon had seen the path in front of Jaebum before he’d seen it for himself.

Of course, in hindsight, it's plain to see. But Jaebum didn't have the advantages Hakyeon does, either in age or upbringing, wasn't raised in such a way that finding that path had been easy. Even the dimmest light after darkness is blinding, and Jaebum had been left with little but hurt and an insidious voice plaguing him, one that awoke back in Solune when he’d lost his title, lost everything he’d pinned his future and identity on. The voice that told him he deserved it because of what he is.

As Jaebum lies there, Jinyoung and Hakyeon’s words ringing through his mind in harmony, he realizes that voice has faded during his time in Cerisale. In fact, when he meets Jinyoung’s eyes, he doesn’t think he can hear it at all.

“I hope I can, too,” Jaebum whispers. “Actually, I think I’m starting to.”

The smile that blossoms across Jinyoung’s face at his words takes his breath away. He can’t stop himself from leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Jinyoung’s mouth. The action is clumsy, and their lips don’t quite line up at first — Jaebum feels the stubble above Jinyoung’s upper lip, the hard line of his teeth, the corner of his mouth that curls up without quite being where Jaebum is aiming. But it’s all lovely, all Jinyoung, and Jaebum keeps kissing whatever his lips reach, even as Jinyoung giggles breathlessly at his eagerness.

“Thank you,” Jaebum breathes, not letting their lips part, hoping Jinyoung can feel his genuine gratitude.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Jinyoung doesn’t pull away either, the words he speaks warm between them.

Jaebum smiles and watches as Jinyoung mirrors him. “But I want to.”

“Just hearing what you had to say was enough,” Jinyoung murmurs.

Jaebum angles his face so the tips of their noses brush. “Maybe I don’t want to settle for enough.”

Jinyoung’s breath hitches and Jaebum can feel it. “Well, then,” he says, voice slightly uneven. “Far be it from me to stop you.”

Jaebum grins and he dips his head to start mouthing at Jinyoung’s neck, savoring the small gasp it elicits. “I’d hoped you’d say that.”

“What?” Jinyoung asks before whimpering out a little _oh_ as Jaebum slides down the bed, mouthing at his collarbones as he undoes the front of Jinyoung’s robe. “Jaebum, what — what are you doing — ”

Jaebum nuzzles against Jinyoung’s chest and then presses a kiss there. “Thanking you,” he says simply, before lowering his mouth back down to Jinyoung’s skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a long time between updates again, hasn't it? i'm sorry y'all, i feel like i say this every time, but i was moving (yes, again), and trying to pack and unpack everything over and over again hasn't left much time for actually sitting down and focusing on writing :c i've also been dealing with a busted computer that loves crashing as soon as i start writing, and i've been working on my fic for the got7 halloween exchange. but! we're drawing closer to the end of bloom! we've got a tentative chapter number! (for real this time! ~~probably!~~ )
> 
> as always, thank you guys so so much for always being patient with me and leaving me such lovely comments + messages, whether here or on other platforms. they help more than you know when i'm feeling doubtful about this fic or my writing in general, so i appreciate them greatly ♡♡♡


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to [mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bias_wrecked), [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee), and [lauren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistercacophony) for looking this over for me even when it got unreasonably long! also thank you to [cel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryliner) for helping me with inspiration for one of the scenes and cheering me along all the time ♡
> 
> also HAPPY COMEBACK BIRDIES god our boys are so talented so beautiful i'm so happy have some goddamn fanfiction

As they prepare for their trip to Solune in the days before their departure, Jaebum is restless in a way he hasn’t been since before the wedding. The giddy anticipation of seeing Youngjae again for the first time in weeks clashes with the icy dread that curls in his stomach at the thought of facing his parents and all the advisors who’d justified his being shipped off. The result is a constant state of anxiety that leaves Jaebum jittery. He keeps himself busy with preparations, trying to determine which of his new clothes will be suitable for a Solune spring and planning out what he and Jinyoung can do upon their arrival.

Still, there are times when he runs out of distractions and his mind begins to race. Jaebum finds himself lost in thought, caught staring off into space and ruminating on all the things that could go wrong. He remembers the condescension, the discomfort, the cold pain of no longer belonging, and they threaten to pull him under again into places he thought he’d left behind —

And then Jinyoung is there, taking his hand or kissing his neck, presence warm and bright like the sun chasing away shadows. Jinyoung is there and he holds Jaebum and makes him feel cherished. Whether it’s with an innocent peck to the cheek or a much less innocent glimmer in his eyes as he sinks to his knees, Jinyoung seems to have developed an uncanny awareness of when Jaebum’s mood dives and what to do about it.

Jaebum finds Jinyoung’s embrace synonymous with comfort. He grows accustomed to Jinyoung’s gentle fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck or rubbing circles into the small of his back; so much so that when Jinyoung is near him but not _near enough,_ Jaebum has started leaning into him while carefully looking anywhere but at Jinyoung. At first, Jinyoung was uncertain of what to do, but now he simply smiles and steps closer and tucks Jaebum’s body against his own.

Jinyoung helps the time pass more easily before their trip, but Jaebum still finds himself antsy, as if his anxieties have overflowed out of his chest and are crawling under every inch of his skin. It only worsens when they finally climb into a carriage and set off.

Jinyoung cocks his head, looking at Jaebum in the seat across from him. “I can feel you worrying from over here, you know.”

Jaebum pushes a breath out through gritted teeth. “Can you blame me?”

Jinyoung makes a sympathetic noise. “No, I suppose not,” he admits. “But think of it this way — every step the horses take is a step closer to seeing Youngjae again.”

Jaebum rests his elbows on his knees and lets his face fall into his hands. “But before that,” he groans. “Before that, I have to see my parents.”

“And it’ll be all right,” Jinyoung insists. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Jaebum.”

“I just — ” Jaebum pushes his hands back through his hair. “I just don’t know what to expect, and I feel like that makes it even worse.”

“You can’t worry about what you can’t control,” Jinyoung says quietly.

“Watch me,” Jaebum says mulishly, and then he sighs. “I — I know you’re right. I know I can’t, but I feel like — god, my body feels like I’m panicking. It’s like I’ve just woken up from a nightmare, but it’s all the time. It doesn’t _stop,_ and I don’t know how I’m supposed to — ”

“Jaebum.” Jinyoung’s voice stops him in his tracks. “Come here.” He pats the seat beside him.

When Jaebum stands to sit beside him, Jinyoung slides down the bench until he’s pressed nearly into the corner and guides Jaebum to lie down with his head in Jinyoung’s lap.

Jaebum stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I can sleep, Jinyoung.”

“You don’t have to sleep,” Jinyoung murmurs, his hands already at work brushing Jaebum’s hair back and rubbing firm circles into his temples. “Just lie down for a bit. Rest as much as you can.”

Jaebum huffs and whines a bit, but relaxes into Jinyoung’s touch. He turns toward Jinyoung and shifts slightly closer, nuzzling into his tummy.

Jinyoung jumps slightly at the touch. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just appreciating,” Jaebum mumbles into the fabric of Jinyoung’s shirt. He inhales deeply, and when he exhales it’s a low groan. “Smell nice, Jinyoung-ah.”

“Yeah?” Jinyoung sounds incredibly amused. “You enjoy the smell of the soap Yugyeom washed my shirt with?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jaebum grumbles. One of his hands comes up to tangle in the cloth, holding Jinyoung close even though he’s already pinned down by Jaebum’s head in his lap. “You.”

“Me,” Jinyoung teases, but then he adds more quietly, “I know what you mean, though.” He pauses for just a moment before offering timidly, “If it helps you feel better, you can...scent me, you know.”

“Yeah?” Jaebum sits up slightly, resting his weight on hands on either side of Jinyoung’s hips. Their faces are so close his eyes are nearly crossed just looking at him. “That’s not a terrible idea, actually.”

Jinyoung tilts his head back, baring the curve of neck to Jaebum, and that movement alone sends out a wave of his warm scent that almost makes Jaebum’s eyes flutter shut.

“Jinyoung-ah,” he breathes without even thinking, swaying closer until his nose bumps up against Jinyoung’s cheek. He hears Jinyoung’s breath hitch in his throat and he tucks his nose under Jinyoung’s jaw, running the tip down along the delicate skin, right where he would be able to feel Jinyoung’s pulse if he pressed his lips there.

Jinyoung’s scent used to stir such conflicted feelings in him. Well, no, Jaebum thinks, that isn’t quite right. The raw response he’s had to Jinyoung being physically close has always been the same — intense attraction, soothed anxiety, and deep comfort. But he grew so used to fear and worry nipping at the heels of those feelings that now letting himself revel in the warmth of Jinyoung’s scent and touch feels like a novelty.

Jaebum pushes closer, inhaling deeply and feeling as if the scent doesn’t stop at his lungs. It feels like _Jinyoung_ fills his chest, flows through his limbs right down to his fidgeting fingers and lets them finally fall still. When he lets out the breath, it’s almost a groan right against Jinyoung’s skin.

Jinyoung’s hand comes up to rub slow circles against Jaebum’s back. “Feel a little better?”

Jaebum hums in acknowledgment and nods against him, but he stays where he is. It’s easier to take deep, calming breaths when they’re tinged with the spice of Jinyoung’s scent. It’s easier with Jinyoung, it seems, as a general rule. At least, it’s easier than being alone.

“Jinyoung,” he murmurs, letting his lips press chaste and gentle against his mate’s neck. A content sigh leaves Jinyoung. “I have a question.”

“About what?” Jinyoung’s hand is still circling between Jaebum’s shoulder blades, palm flat and warm even though their clothing.

Jaebum bites his lip, grateful that the way his face is pressed to Jinyoung’s neck means that his expression is invisible. “During my next heat, would you...you know?”

Jinyoung’s hand stops in its movements and slips to Jaebum’s shoulder instead, tugging him back enough so he can look him in the eye. “Would I what?”

Jaebum whines at the loss of both Jinyoung’s scent and his hiding place. “I just meant...you _know._ ”

“‘You know’ doesn’t really work as a descriptor if I don’t actually know, Jaebum,” Jinyoung says sounding slightly exasperated.

Jaebum presses his lips together as he debates what to do before leaning forward and shoving his face back into Jinyoung’s neck. Jinyoung makes a small exasperated noise, but before he can say anything, Jaebum mutters quickly, “Would you knot me during my next heat?”

“Would I — oh.” Jinyoung’s arms wrap around Jaebum’s waist, squeezing him lightly. “I — Jaebum, really?”

“I’ve just — I’ve been thinking,” Jaebum says quietly. “And also, um, trying stuff. On my own.”

Jinyoung inhales sharply at that but lets Jaebum continue.

“We don’t have to,” Jaebum says hurriedly. “I just thought it might...be a thing I’d be interested in. Since I’m, you know, physically capable of taking it. Probably. In theory.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to,” Jinyoung offers.

“I know.” Jaebum kisses Jinyoung’s jaw. “You’ve made that very clear.”

“Good,” Jinyoung breathes. “That’s good.”

“So...are you okay with trying it?” Jaebum asks. Talking about it with Jinyoung makes him realize he’s anticipating it more than he’d thought. There’s a curl of excitement in his belly, a nice distraction from the worry that’s been plaguing him.

“We could...take it in steps,” Jinyoung says haltingly. “Hear me out. You’ve never — I’ve always let you fuck me when we do things, or we’ve just used mouths and hands.”

“I told you,” Jaebum says. “I’ve been trying stuff on my own — ”

“I know,” Jinyoung interrupts, pink staining his ears and cheeks. “I get that. What I’m trying to say is — maybe no knot the first time? Let’s just — just try without going quite that far.”

“Do you not want to?” Jaebum asks, feeling small. He hadn’t expected to have this much of a reaction to Jinyoung wanting to hold off; then again, he hadn’t expected that Jinyoung would want to hold off in the first place. But it awakens strange insecurities in his gut, ones that remind him of tossing and turning in drenched sheets with no one to turn to, of being alone when that was the last thing he wanted.

“God, no,” Jinyoung says. “I mean, I do. I want to so much, Jaebum, you have no idea. I just — We’ve had so many good firsts, Jaebum. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Mark said you won’t kill me,” Jaebum says automatically.

Jinyoung blanches. “First of all, there’s a big difference between not hurting and not killing. Second of all, when did Mark come into this?”

“I...may have talked to him about this,” Jaebum admits reluctantly.

The face Jinyoung pulls makes Jaebum snort. “You talked to my _brother_ about me knotting you?”

“He’s the only alpha I know who has an omega mate,” Jaebum protests. “And I didn’t want to ask Jackson, because — ”

“Because Jackson,” Jinyoung says, sounding begrudgingly understanding. He heaves a sigh and lets his head thunk back against the wall of the carriage. “I just don’t like thinking about Mark and sex, even if Jackson never lets us forget.”

“That’s kind of how I felt about you, at first,” Jaebum says. “I mean, I wanted to just pretend you didn’t have anything going on below the belt.”

Jinyoung sputters out a laugh. “How did that work out for you?”

“Not so great once I was in heat and grinding on you,” Jaebum mutters. “Made it a little hard to deny.”

“Not so great?” Jinyoung puts on a hurt expression. “And here I thought it was the frottage session of a lifetime.”

Jaebum laughs. “Oh, yeah, a real winner. My favorite part was when I ran out of the room still covered in jizz.”

“Really?” Jinyoung muses. “I mean, the part where you accused me of planning it all was pretty high up there for me.”

It’s probably a little strange, Jaebum thinks, to be laughing and joking about a matter that had felt like life and death at the time. There’s probably something a little twisted to teasing about the fears that had plagued his every waking moment and some of his sleeping ones too. But there’s also something intensely freeing about it, like taking weights that have been holding him down and throwing them away with a laugh. It feels like taking back the power that was snatched away from him.

“I’m also partial to the bit where you admitted you jerked off in the library,” Jaebum says, keeping the playful back-and-forth going.

Jinyoung smirks, his pretty eyes gone just the slightest bit sharp around the edges in a way that makes Jaebum’s heart beat that much faster. “I liked the part where you called me alpha,” he whispers, and it’s playful still, but a very different kind.

Jaebum swallows hard. “Oh, really?” he asks, trying to keep up a front of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says. “Maybe it was just the rut talking, though.”

“Maybe,” Jaebum agrees, but he can’t help but think that even as sweet as Jinyoung is, as gentle and loving and caring, he’d absolutely responded to that title with enthusiasm that went beyond hormones.

There’s a tension between them, but not the kind from before everything, where they were simply waiting for something to snap and go horribly wrong. It’s the kind of tension that has Jaebum leaning into Jinyoung again, nuzzling at his neck and letting his kisses get a little open, a little wet.

Jinyoung lets out a shaky breath. “Not in the carriage,” he murmurs, gently pushing Jaebum back. “When we — When we arrive.”

“But then my family will be there,” Jaebum complains.

“Didn’t you bed plenty of girls while you lived with your parents?” Jinyoung asks with raised eyebrows.

“Well, yes, but that — they didn’t know I was getting — ” Jaebum flushes, finding his tongue tripping over the words even if he’s made peace with the idea of trying it.

Jinyoung’s gaze softens and he reaches up, pushes a curl of hair behind Jaebum’s ear. “They don’t have to know anything,” he says quietly. “And if they think they know...who cares?”

“I do,” Jaebum whispers, and admitting that feels almost as shameful as talking about getting knotted, in its own way. “I still care.”

Jinyoung sighs. “I know you do. But you shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jaebum mutters.

“I know it isn’t, which is why I’m not trying to tell you that you shouldn’t care at all,” Jinyoung replies. “I just want you to know that if you decide not to care anymore, or if you want to and need help — Well, I’m here, for one, but so is Jackson. So is Mark, and Hakyeon, and Younghyun, and my parents.” His thumb strokes back and forth along Jaebum’s jaw. “And I know it’s not the same. I know we can’t really replace them, but — we are here.”

Emotion wells up in Jaebum’s chest embarrassingly quickly and he tries to hide his expression by nuzzling back into his mate’s neck. Jinyoung takes pity on him, letting him tuck his face there and huff in calming breaths of his scent.

“Thank you,” Jaebum whispers. He presses another kiss to Jinyoung’s neck, back to quick and chaste, before lying back down with his head in his lap. “I think I might be able to nap before we get there after all.”

“Good,” Jinyoung murmurs, his hand finding Jaebum’s hair and stroking through it gently. “That’s good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum isn’t sure what to expect as the carriage pulls up in front of the castle. Between his parents’ urge to sweep him under the rug and the need to impress their allies, he honestly doesn’t know which will win out.

As it turns out, he’s welcomed back in much the same way he left — the castle isn’t decorated in any special way and only a small group is waiting for him.

But as far as Jaebum’s concerned, there could be a bugle fanfare playing directly in his face or the castle could be emptied out or set on fire; all he sees is Youngjae beaming at him from the front steps at his parents’ side. He doesn’t feel the ground beneath his feet as he flies up the path, ignoring etiquette and decorum and sweeping Youngjae up in his arms, squeezing him as tightly as he can, almost sure that it can’t be real after he’s waited so long.

Youngjae’s wheeze of _too tight, hyung, I can’t breathe_ sounds real though, and the way he squeezes Jaebum back just as hard despite his complaints feels real too. It’s strange, the way Youngjae hasn’t really changed — at least not visibly — but he still feels slightly unfamiliar in Jaebum’s arms, as if he’s gotten too used to the memory of him instead.

Jaebum clings tighter. He can relearn this closeness now. He doesn’t have to rely on just memories anymore.

As giddy as he is with happiness, reality undeniably crashes down around him the moment he hears his father address him.

“Jaebum.”

He slowly lets go of Youngjae, stepping back and lowering his head instinctively in a sign of respect. “Father.”

As quickly as Jaebum had dashed toward Youngjae, it had almost been like he could outrun the weight that settles back onto his shoulders now. This, he remembers more accurately. Responsibility, expectations, the compulsion to monitor his own thoughts once, twice, as many times as he needs to before he acts. These are more intrinsic than the happier memories.

There’s a tremulous sigh — his mother. “It’s good to see you again, Jaebum,” she says, her voice sounding tightly restrained. It draws Jaebum’s eyes up to look at her. His heart clenches in his chest as he looks at her and then his father. Even after the time away and with all the resentment he holds for their actions, that sentence alone brings back the urge to please them that seems woven into the very fabric of Jaebum’s brain. The words she says are the ones she parades out in front of all returning visitors — And isn’t that strange, to apply the word _visitor_ to himself so easily? — but they fill his chest with a strange hope for something he doesn’t think he even really wants.

“It’s good to see you too, Mother,” he manages. Simple, proper, detached. The best way to handle this, for now.

Behind him, Jinyoung clears his throat quietly. He must’ve followed Jaebum, even if he’d been too preoccupied with Youngjae and his parents to notice.

Jaebum turns to face him, guides him by the elbow to stand beside him. “Mother, Father,” he says, finding that as easily as he can remember the appropriate formality, it tastes all wrong on his tongue now. “This is Jinyoung. My mate.”

Jinyoung seems to have picked up on at least some of the protocol from observing Jaebum’s stilted exchange with his parents, and he bows deferentially. “Your Majesties. It’s an honor to be your guest.”

The king nods, apparently satisfied that Jinyoung has observed proper etiquette. “It’s an honor to host you,” he replies, a scripted response Jaebum heard endlessly growing up.

His mother picks up, right where she always does. “Please join us for dinner,” she says. Jaebum could probably recite the words along with her. “The servants will take your luggage up to your quarters, and you can bathe and rest after we eat.”

“Thank you,” Jinyoung says, handling the awkwardness surprisingly well, considering the easygoing nature of communication in Cerisale. Still, once Jaebum’s parents turn their backs to head inside, Jinyoung’s eyes find Jaebum’s and seem to be trying to ask a million questions at once.

Jaebum doesn’t know what to say to him. He’s never felt the urge to explain his family’s expectations before, let alone the urge to apologize for them. He was always on the other side of it, always the dutiful son, the unquestioningly loyal prince.

Youngjae slips up next to them and murmurs, “Hi, Jinyoung. Sorry, they’re a little...set in their ways, but we’re really happy to meet you.” He pauses, and then amends apologetically, “Well, I’m really happy to meet you.”

Jinyoung giggles and then Youngjae does too, and it loosens something in Jaebum’s chest that he hadn’t even realized had felt tight. Seeing two of the people he cares about most laughing together takes some of the edge off of being in a place that has such sour final memories.

Jinyoung looks odd in his surroundings as they make their way toward the hall where they take their meals. It goes beyond the fact that he’s wearing a delicate pink that offsets his warm skin and contrasts starkly with the early evening sun piercing through the windows as it starts to set. He seems too bright, like he’s outshining the sun itself.

Jaebum wonders if he sticks out so blatantly as well.

He takes a step closer to Jinyoung, imagines that he can feel warmth radiating off of him, and wills himself to let go of some of the tension knotting his shoulders.

But the awkwardness returns once they take their seats at the table. Jaebum’s gotten so used to spending meals hearing Jinyoung trade thinly veiled threats with at least one brother — and probably a servant for good measure — that sitting here in near silence save for the scrape of cutlery on dishes and the occasional remark on the quality of the food is excruciating.

Jinyoung stays quiet, head down and courteous to the point of stiltedness, but it seems to appease his family just fine.

It makes Jaebum’s gut feel tight, to see that carefulness in Jinyoung again. He’s so barely removed from that cautious Jinyoung, can vividly remember the wariness that used to cling to the line of Jinyoung’s shoulders and the guarded expression he’d wear around Jaebum. It isn’t for him, not this time, but it still settles on top of the anxiety from returning to Solune, makes Jaebum feel like he’s sinking again. He hasn’t felt this low in so long, at least not on so many fronts at the same time.

As a distraction, Jaebum buries himself in his favorite foods that he’s missed and prays that the meal will end as quickly and painlessly as possible.

With each bite, carefully and silently chewed between polite comments, it feels like they’re inching closer and closer to the end unscathed, and Jaebum can feel the tension slowly starting to eke out of his shoulders. They’re so close to being free, to being able to retreat to their quarters and sit and talk openly with Youngjae without the pressure of propriety weighing down on them.

And then Jinyoung reaches for the chicken.

Jaebum almost knows what’s coming before it happens, and time seems to slow down as he watches Jinyoung stretch out a bare hand instead of a utensil to pick up a leg of chicken — perfectly normal in Cerisale, of course. But here, at the table of the royal family of Solune, Jaebum can see the eyes of his parents, the servants, even Youngjae, widen to the size of saucers as Jinyoung takes the chicken leg in his fingers and lift it to his mouth to tear off a bite.

“Ah.” Jaebum doesn’t quite know what to say, lifts his hand to hover awkwardly next to Jinyoung’s elbow.

But Jinyoung seems to notice the way all eyes are on him, and not in a particularly friendly manner, and freezes, the bite he took half-chewed in his mouth.

“I — ” He starts, voice muffled by his food. “I’m sorry?”

Jaebum’s father and mother’s faces are blankly shocked, as if Jinyoung’s done something completely beyond the pale instead of just using his hands in place of silverware. Youngjae, by contrast, is trying to hide his laughter behind his hand and failing spectacularly. It’s a comical scene, and Jaebum feels a laugh bubbling up in his chest. After spending time in Cerisale and becoming accustomed to the sight of even royalty eating with their hands, he can’t help but find it amusing that it’s seen as so taboo here. There’s nothing to do but laugh, really. He turns to Jinyoung, thinking they can share a giggle, except he’s faced with the sight of Jinyoung’s eyes wide with mortification, face drawn with worry.

Immediately, Jaebum’s hand falls to lightly hold Jinyoung’s elbow, probably too affectionate for a meal with his parents. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, ignoring the stares. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jinyoung whispers. “I — I didn’t realize — ”

“Jaebum,” his father says stiffly. “Would you help our guest, please?”

The words don’t feel cruel, at least not intentionally. They’re not pointed or sharp. Instead, they’re lined with discomfort, as if the fact that they even have to be said is a burden. As if Jinyoung — an extension of Jaebum here in Solune — is a burden.

It’s a tone Jaebum was all too familiar with growing up. As he grew from an easily cowed young boy into an angry teenager, he’d always felt the same — he’d almost rather his parents yell at him than use that tone. Even now, even when it’s directed at someone else’s mistake, Jaebum’s gut immediately twists and his chest feels tight and he’s awash with that sickening feeling of disappointing his parents. It feels like that’s all he _can_ do here, failure after failure in front of the people whose approval he’s wanted most desperately all his life.

Jinyoung seems to shrink down in his chair and a wave of protectiveness rushes through Jaebum. He’s been the unwitting breaker of unwritten rules and borne the brunt of his parents’ disapproval. He knows exactly what it feels like to be in Jinyoung’s seat right now; but more importantly, he knows that Jinyoung’s family never made him feel like that when he moved to Cerisale.

Jaebum has never really been able to push back against his parents. He’s lost his temper with his father before, of course he has, but he’s always come back and apologized like the obedient son he was raised to be. He’s forced his snarls into smiles to his parents’ faces, hidden his scowls with a carefully bowed head, and then gone to Hongbin and talked about everything he would say if he could just — if he could only —

As hot as his temper has always run, he’s never had it in him to take a definitive stand. Even when they’d grabbed the first alpha available to marry him off to and shipped him away with as little fanfare as they could manage, it had always circled back around in Jaebum’s mind. Because he hadn’t been what he was supposed to be, because he hadn’t been good enough to be a crown prince, because he hadn’t been capable. Because he’d turned out _wrong._

But, Jaebum thinks as he looks at Jinyoung, he wasn’t wrong. He isn’t. Jinyoung’s told him so himself, but more than that, he’s shown him. His whole family has shown Jaebum that. And if someone like Jinyoung — patient, sweet, precious Jinyoung — can be made to feel the way that Jaebum did for all those years?

Well, suddenly, saying something feels quite a bit easier.

Jaebum’s blood boils in a way that it hasn’t recently, in a way that he thought he might’ve grown out of. Apparently, he hasn’t. But he doesn’t think he’ll be ashamed of this when he looks back on it. Now, there are two parts of him finally in concert — his biology, making his body physically ache with the need to stand by his mate when he’s clearly in distress; and his mind, flooded in something akin to anger but sharper, cool and level, something he’d think Jinyoung might feel instead of himself. Something controllable, something he can direct without simply exploding in an irrational mess of emotion.

So he pats Jinyoung’s elbow one last time before reaching out and grabbing a chicken leg himself. He makes very deliberate eye contact with his father as he rips off a chunk with his teeth.

“Delicious,” he says, not minding that he’s spraying crumbs.

Youngjae has his face pressed into the table, trying to use his arm to cover his face, but nothing can hide the way his shoulders are shaking with laughter. His parents look scandalized, an expression that once would’ve made him cower in shame, a punishment in and of itself, but now fills him with a giddy sense of victory. And Jinyoung —

Jinyoung is still wide-eyed, but the corners of his mouth are curling up slowly. Jaebum watches as his eyes light up and fold into sweet crescents framed by those wrinkles that Jaebum’s come to think fondly of as whiskers. Everything behind him fades away and leaves just Jinyoung, grinning at him openly and gratefully, and Jaebum only just resists the urge to lean in close and kiss or maybe scent him right there, family and decency be damned.

He settles for letting his face split into a grin to mirror Jinyoung’s, and then they’re sitting there snorting and laughing and trying not to choke on their food. Jaebum can’t recall a time at this table that he’d felt this much unbridled joy before this; but now it feels like it washes out anything else, any memories faded in light of Jinyoung’s brightness.

He can handle this, Jaebum realizes. This meal, this trip, this adjustment he’s learning to make with his parents. It’s less daunting with someone by his side.

He laughs again and feels infinitely lighter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m really sorry you had to deal with that,” Jinyoung murmurs, embarrassment still tingeing his tone even now that they’re alone in their quarters. “I should’ve waited to see how everyone else was eating instead of just assuming — ”

“Don’t apologize,” Jaebum interjects, sprawling out on the bed next to Jinyoung. It probably isn’t the best idea before he’s bathed, but lying down after traveling for so long feels too good to resist. “That was the most fun I think I’ve ever had during a meal here. Except for maybe that time Hongbin and I got hold of some crickets and — ”

The door creaking open cuts him short, Youngjae’s head popping in a moment later. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks.

“Of course not.” Jaebum sits up and crosses his legs under himself. “Come on in.”

“‘Of course not,’” Youngjae mimics as he crosses the threshold and takes a seat on Jaebum’s side of the bed. “I’m a beta and even I can smell you all over each other, don’t act so innocent.”

Jaebum flushes, trying discreetly to sniff himself to see if it’s actually as bad as Youngjae says. Maybe his scent is stronger from being cooped up in a carriage for so long.

Gentle hands settle on Jaebum’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just because he’s stressed out,” Jinyoung offers.

Jaebum turns and frowns at him. “Are you saying I really do smell?”

Jinyoung laughs and nuzzles into his neck. “If I say yes, will you be mad?” he teases. Before Jaebum can complain though, he adds, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you smell bad.” The tip of his nose brushes against Jaebum’s earlobe and sends a shiver down his spine. “Quite the opposite, really.”

Youngjae coughs. “I’m right here. And not particularly interested in watching my brother get groped. You know, if anyone cares about my opinion.”

Warmth flushes across Jaebum’s cheeks. Jinyoung didn’t do anything particularly risqué, but the reaction Jaebum had, the way his body melted back against his mate, makes him feel indecent, particularly in front of his baby brother. He’s not quite sure what’s gotten into himself.

He shrugs Jinyoung off. “No one’s getting groped,” he mumbles. “What’s gotten into your head anyway, huh? Has Hongbin been bringing you those trashy omega romance novels? You know he shows you those because he thinks they’re funny, not because they’re good, right?”

Youngjae snorts. “Nothing’s gotten into my head except you two being” — He waves his hand at them. — “this way.”

Jaebum is about to protest that they aren’t even touching anymore; but then he realizes that while Jinyoung is no longer pressing his face into his neck, they’ve still angled themselves toward each other without looking.

Still, he insists, “I don’t know what way you mean.”

Youngjae gives him an unimpressed look. “Sure you don’t, hyung.” But then a smile spreads across his face, equal parts teasing and affectionate. “I guess you’ve just gotten so used to married life, you don’t even know when you’re being gross anymore.”

“This is nothing,” Jinyoung pipes up. “You should see him when we’re alone.”

Jaebum whips around to face his traitor of a husband. “As if you’re one to talk.”

Jinyoung blinks innocently. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Jaebum asks. “What about — ”

“When you read me fairytales in the garden?” Jinyoung muses. “Or when you fed me cherries?”

“Okay, _you_ started the cherry feeding, first of all — ” Jaebum says.

Youngjae laughs. “You read him stories, hyung?” he asks. “I guess that makes him officially part of the family, then.”

Jinyoung stiffens next to him. When Jaebum looks at him, his expression is carefully smoothed out; but Jaebum knows him well enough now, apparently. He knows him well enough to see the surprise in his eyes and the tightness in his shoulders.

Jaebum reaches out and rests a hand on the back of Jinyoung’s neck, stroking back and forth at his nape with a thumb. He feels Jinyoung relax incrementally with each pass.

“I guess it does,” Jaebum says, and even though Jinyoung doesn’t look up at him, he can tell that the small smile that curls his lips is for him.

“Well,” Jinyoung says carefully. “I’m glad your family would welcome a barbarian who eats chicken with his hands into the fold.”

“ _Please._ ” Youngjae grins. “I was so worried you were going to be boring, especially from what Mother said about you spending all your free time with books — ”

“Books aren’t boring,” Jinyoung says, sounding slightly insulted.

“ — but thanks for providing better entertainment than the actual parties we host,” Youngjae finishes.

Jinyoung blinks. “Thank you? I think?”

Youngjae beams at him. “You’re welcome.” He sighs and flops back on the bed, narrowly missing smacking the back of his head on one of Jaebum’s knees. “We need to get Hongbin here,” he says wistfully. “He’s so much better at telling the embarrassing stories that you need to hear. He has more practice.”

Jinyoung perks up. “Embarrassing stories?”

“No,” Jaebum says firmly. “I’ve never been embarrassing in my life. Youngjae doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I do too!” Youngjae rolls over onto his front. “Like the time he got it in his head that he should dance like these entertainers that came from the West and nearly cracked his skull open — ”

“There was no skull cracking,” Jaebum protests. “Stop exaggerating.”

“You forgot Hongbin’s name for a full day,” Youngjae replies. “He didn’t forgive you for a month.”

“That’s because Hongbin’s a petty bitch,” Jaebum mutters.

“You lost your memory from hitting your head?” Jinyoung sounds concerned and there’s a feather-light touch at the back of Jaebum’s head, as if Jinyoung is worried it might still hurt after all these years.

“Doesn’t it explain a lot?” Youngjae chirps, laughter breaking into shouts as Jaebum picks up one of the pillows and begins whaling on him. “Stop! _Stop!_ The first time I see you in how many weeks and you try to _murder_ me — ”

“It’s not murder,” Jaebum grunts between blows. “It’s teaching you manners and respect — ”

By the time Youngjae’s howling for mercy and Jaebum’s gotten his fill of revenge, Jinyoung is regarding them both fondly, legs pulled up in front of him and his chin resting on his knees.

“If that’s how you react to one embarrassing story,” he says mildly, “I can’t imagine how the rest of them are going to go.”

“What do you mean, ‘the rest of them?’” Jaebum demands. “Haven’t I suffered enough?”

Jinyoung hums thoughtfully and then says, “No.” He turns to Youngjae with a welcoming smile. “Tell me more.”

Youngjae scoots over to Jinyoung’s side of the bed, hiding slightly behind him. Jaebum narrows his eyes at the pair of them.

“Well, are you aware of Jaebum’s jewelry phase?” Youngjae asks. Jaebum groans and resigns himself to his fate.

“His what?” Jinyoung asks, sounding delighted.

“He used to wear so much,” Youngjae explains. “I guess he still wears the rings, but you should’ve seen the necklaces and whatever else he could manage to wear. He stole some of the maids’ needles and tried to convince me to stab holes in his ears so he could wear earrings — ”

“It would’ve been fine,” Jaebum grumbles.

“It could’ve gotten _infected,_ ” Youngjae replies. “And then your ear would’ve fallen off and Hongbin would’ve made fun of you. Well, he would’ve made more fun of you, anyway.”

“And yet you seem to have that covered so well,” Jaebum says drily.

“Is that’s what’s over there?” Jinyoung interrupts, nodding over at the corner of the room. “All your old jewelry?”

Jaebum cranes his neck to see that Jinyoung is indicating the old brushed silver box that’s sitting on his vanity. He hadn’t paid much attention to it in recent years, even before his disastrous presentation, but it brings a wash of fondness with it even as he cringes at the memories of wearing its contents.

“No,” he says at the same time Youngjae gleefully says, “Absolutely.”

Before Jaebum can stop him, Jinyoung is leveraging himself up off the bed and making his way over to the vanity. He’s careful as he lifts the lid, using his thumbs and forefingers daintily.

“You really used to wear things like this?” Jinyoung marvels as he holds up a chunky necklace inlaid with citrine that clashes horribly with the gold it’s made out of.

“Not that one.” Jaebum wrinkles his nose. “That was a gift for some ceremony or other that I think I wore once or twice, and only because Mother demanded it.”

“The noble color of our country,” Youngjae says somberly before adding, “You’d think someone would’ve realized how ugly it is before they made all the tapestries.”

“Orange can look nice,” Jaebum says. “Just...not like that.”

“Definitely not like that,” Jinyoung agrees. “Oh, this is nice, though.”

The necklace he lifts up next is a fine chain of silver. Jaebum has a hazy recollection of an amber teardrop hanging from it, but it seems to have been lost in the chaos of the jewelry box; all that’s left is a tiny silver disk, barely enough to weigh down the chain as Jinyoung holds it up. It contrasts prettily with the warm tone of Jinyoung’s skin, glimmering in the lamplight, and Jaebum is suddenly hit with the image of it resting in the hollow of Jinyoung’s throat.

“You can have it,” Jaebum says impulsively.

Jinyoung looks over to him in surprise. “Really?”

“I mean, if you want it.” Jaebum shrugs, trying not to be so aware of the two pairs of eyes on him. “You don’t have to, of course.”

“I would really like it,” Jinyoung says quietly. He makes his way over to the bed, crawling up on it so he’s seated across from Jaebum and Youngjae, and he holds out the jewelry. “Help me put it on?”

“Should I leave?” Youngjae asks, looking between them. “I feel like I should leave.”

“You don’t have to,” Jaebum says automatically, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the tilt of Jinyoung’s head, the curve of his smile, the delicate chain draped over his dainty fingers.

Youngjae makes a disbelieving noise. “Right. Sure. I think that’s my cue. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow, then? Please do actually rest some.” He makes to leave the room before Jaebum grabs him by the nape of the neck, reeling him in close.

“You’re leaving without a hug?” Jaebum teases. “After all this time?”

“You already nearly squeezed the life out of me,” Youngjae mumbles, but his arms are already winding tight around Jaebum’s shoulders and his cheek squishes against Jaebum’s jaw. “You’ve gotten more affectionate. Do I need to warn Hongbin about your hugs?”

Jaebum snorts and then ruffles Youngjae’s hair, earning a yelp as Youngjae ducks away from his touch. “Hongbin is never going to be at risk for my hugs. Trust me on that one.”

Youngjae laughs brightly as he straightens out his fringe. “Well, I guess I’m glad I get to keep some things to myself,” he teases, raising his eyebrows at Jinyoung.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Jinyoung says easily. “I promise you Jaebum doesn’t treat me like a brother.”

Jaebum hisses, “ _Jinyoung!_ ” at the same time that Youngjae groans and covers his face as if that will protect him.

“I take back what I said earlier,” Youngjae says, voice muffled behind his hands. He staggers toward the door as if Jinyoung’s dealt him a physical blow. “Please be boring instead, Jinyoung. Anything would be better than this.”

Jinyoung is laughing heartily, doubling over until his head is resting on Jaebum’s shoulder, his entire face crinkled up with amusement. Jaebum shakes his head but can’t stop himself from joining; he finds himself more grateful than ever for Youngjae’s uncanny knack for establishing a rapport with anyone.

It’ll serve him well, Jaebum thinks. There’s still a distant pang in his chest at the reminder of the long road that lies before Youngjae, the one that Jaebum had faced himself for so many years, but it’s soothed by the sight of his baby brother’s smile and the sound of his mate’s laughter beside him.

People can grow if given the chance. Jaebum’s learned that well. And Jaebum can see easily how, with his kind heart and open mind, Youngjae could blossom into the kind of ruler that could maybe bring the changes he’d whispered about to Jaebum in the dark.

“Should I have the servants draw a bath for you?” Youngjae asks, standing in the open doorway. “Since you both smell like however many days’ travel and chicken.” He looks pointedly at Jaebum. “And other things.”

“That’d be great,” Jaebum says. “And take your beta nose elsewhere, stop pretending that you can smell me.”

“I can,” Youngjae protests. “I swear, maybe I’m more sensitive since you’ve been gone, but — hyung, you _reek_ — ”

“Get out,” Jaebum barks, reaching threateningly for a pillow to throw. Youngjae lets out a panicked shout of laughter before dashing out and slamming the door behind him. With a groan, Jaebum settles his weight back on his hands, rolling his neck to work out some of the knots from the carriage ride.

“He’s sweet,” Jinyoung says, fondness tingeing his voice.

“You’re saying that even after he treated me like that?” Jaebum asks with raised eyebrows, but then he sighs. “He is. He’s a good kid.”

Jinyoung shifts closer on the bed until he’s nestled right behind Jaebum and rests his chin on his shoulder. “I’m happy we came,” he murmurs. “So you could see him, if nothing else.”

Jaebum swallows hard. “Me too,” he says, the words coming out more choked than he wants to admit. He clears his throat, turning on the bed to face Jinyoung and saying briskly, “You still want me to put that necklace on you?”

Jinyoung eyes him carefully for a moment. He must decide that they’ve had enough emotional talk for the moment because he holds the jewelry out to Jaebum again. When Jaebum takes it, the links of the chain slide over each other with a sound like a whisper.

"Turn around," Jaebum instructs. He sticks his tongue out in concentration as he undoes the tiny clasp.

Jinyoung dutifully shifts until his back is facing Jaebum. "Is this good?"

"Yeah." Jaebum scoots closer until he's almost cradling Jinyoung's hips in the space between his thighs, but there's just a breath of space between them. It almost feels more tantalizing this way, to be so close that he can't tell if the warmth he thinks he feels emanating from Jinyoung is real or imagined.

Jinyoung huffs quietly, and it takes Jaebum a moment to realize it's a laugh.

"What?" Jaebum asks self-consciously.

"Nothing," Jinyoung replies. "It just reminds me a little bit of our wedding night, you know? The bite."

Unthinkingly, Jaebum reaches out with the hand that isn't holding the necklace and settles his hand against the back of his left shoulder, drawing a shiver from his mate. "Is this you asking me to bite you?" he teases. "I don't know if I'm into switching quite like that."

He can feel the burst of laughter through his palm against Jinyoung's back. "No biting," Jinyoung says. "The necklace will do for me."

Jaebum bites his lip and pulls back his hand so he can separate the two ends of the chain. "Come here," he whispers, even though Jinyoung is already right there, centimeters away.

Jinyoung leans back into him — still not touching, still stirring that strange warmth in the air between them, like sitting at a hearth. It's just enough closer that his scent washes over Jaebum and makes his eyes flutter shut. He lets himself bask in it, tipping his head forward until Jinyoung's hair tickles against his nose.

"Having fun back there?" Jinyoung asks, but there's no bite to his voice. Jaebum simply hums and runs his nose down the line of Jinyoung's nape and over the soft curve where his neck meets his shoulder. He licks his lips. It takes everything in him not to press open-mouthed kisses here and let his tongue flicker out to taste Jinyoung's velvety skin.

Through greater self-control than he realized he had, Jaebum sits back enough to bring the necklace over Jinyoung's head and down to his throat. Even before he manages to get the clasp done in the back, he finds his fingers fumbling, too distracted by the sight of bright silver against Jinyoung's warm skin.

When it's on properly, Jinyoung turns to face him. Jaebum exhales slowly, feeling like he's in a trance as he watches Jinyoung lift a hand to his throat and run a fingertip along where it rests on his collarbone.

"Does it look nice?" Jinyoung asks.

Jaebum nods, not trusting his voice. _Nice_ doesn't encompass the feeling rolling through him. Of course, it's pretty, fine jewelry on a fine man. There's the unexpectedness of it too, the thrill of novelty since Jinyoung so rarely indulges in things like this. He's not used to a metallic shimmer drawing his eye to a part of Jinyoung that's often covered by high collars.

But more than that, it's the sight of something so undeniably his draped around Jinyoung's throat. It's the memory of Jinyoung asking him to put it on for him, the fact that he asked Jaebum for that and the fact that Jaebum could give it to him.

Jaebum reaches out and settles his hand over Jinyoung's, traces the same section of the chain Jinyoung just did. He can't tell if he's imagining it, but the metal already feels warm from Jinyoung's skin. God, Jaebum feels drunk — off Jinyoung's scent, off the sight of Jinyoung wearing his jewelry, off the simple knowledge that Jinyoung wanted to bear some kind of outward sign that he belongs to Jaebum.

"The bath is probably ready by now," Jinyoung murmurs, snapping Jaebum out of his reverie.

Jaebum leans back a bit to clear his head of Jinyoung's scent before he does something stupid. It wouldn't do to let the bathwater go cold. “Do you want to go first or should I?”

Jinyoung tilts his head, shifting just enough that the silver catches the light and gleams against his skin. Jaebum swallows hard. “Why don’t you join me?” Jinyoung offers.

Jaebum’s eyes snap up from Jinyoung’s throat to his face. He isn't quite smirking, but his lips are parted just enough that Jaebum can see the way his tongue is pressed against the back of his front teeth, coy and pretty. There's a tease, a challenge in his eyes.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Jaebum manages.

Jinyoung's lips stretch into a proper smile at that. "I think it'd be the best idea," he purrs. "Don't you?"

Jaebum stares at him, mouth working silently as he tries to respond. It's difficult when his brain is flooded not with words, but with images — of Jinyoung's wet hair pushed back off his forehead, of his pink shoulders above the surface of the water, of droplets sliding down his neck only to be caught by the fine silver chain around his neck.

"You know," Jaebum finally chokes out. "I think you might be right."

Jinyoung grins and Jaebum feels like he's already naked. "I always am."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum isn’t sure what Jinyoung’s plans are for their stay. He doesn’t want to leave his mate alone in an unfamiliar castle — he’s all too familiar with the anxiety that comes with that, even if his experience had been somewhere far more lax about rules. He can’t imagine facing the daunting silence and decorum of the Solune household alone after growing up in Cerisale, where the queen actually smiles and the servants call princes _hyung._

So he’s surprised when the first thing Jinyoung does upon waking up is shoo him out of their quarters with an order to _go spend time with people you don’t live with, idiot._

He’s even more surprised by his reluctance to leave Jinyoung there. Even once Jinyoung brandishes a book that he’d brought with him and tells him, “I can take care of myself just fine, Jaebum, don’t worry about me,” Jaebum finds himself wanting to burrow into bed again with his mate. The idea of curling up around Jinyoung while he reads, circling the blankets around them in a cocoon of warmth and their combined scents, makes Jaebum ache with want.

But Jinyoung is very firm. “You’re going to regret it if you don’t take this opportunity to go spend time with Youngjae,” he says sternly. “I’m not going to have you moping for weeks when we get back to Cerisale just because you were thinking with the wrong head here.”

Of course, as Jinyoung said the night before, he’s always right. At least, he is in this case. Well, perhaps not about what Jaebum wants from him — it has less to do with getting another round of sex in and more to do with the desire to simply feel Jinyoung all around him.

But still, he didn’t come all this way to stay in bed with Jinyoung. Jaebum can easily acknowledge that once he’s splashed cold water onto his still sleep-warm skin and dragged enough clothing onto his body to be considered decent. It’s a little embarrassing, in hindsight, how clingy he’s apparently become with Jinyoung.

He forces himself to shake it off, channeling his focus instead toward his brother. Youngjae, as it turns out, is still asleep by the time Jaebum is so unceremoniously ejected from his quarters. Jaebum pays it forward, first gently tapping Youngjae’s shoulder and then resorting to tickling when that doesn’t work, until he finally has a ruffled and slightly disgruntled baby brother at least marginally ready to face the day.

He soothes Youngjae with sweets he begs off the kitchen maids. As they gorge themselves on pastries, Youngjae gleefully reminds Jaebum of all the times he’d tried flirting with the maids before puberty hit him fully, regardless of his cracking voice and the three straggling hairs that he didn’t know how to shave off his chin yet.

With some sweets in him and Jaebum sufficiently embarrassed for the morning, Youngjae is noticeably brighter as they set off from the kitchens. He chatters happily, bouncing easily between topics from their childhood together to what Jaebum’s missed.

Once they reach the music room, Youngjae eagerly drags him to the pianoforte bench, spreading out his exercise books in front of Jaebum on the stand. He asks Jaebum to pick the song, even though they’re all foreign names that Jaebum’s tongue stumbles over, and Jaebum blindly points at a title that he remembers Youngjae working on before he left. With the music set, Youngjae sets off enthusiastically while Jaebum is still seated at his side.

The improvement he’s made in weeks is shocking to Jaebum. His fingers fly over the keys with not only grace, but strength. From runs that were aborted halfway through and chords that jangled discordantly, Youngjae has honed music that dances, music he clearly holds the reins to without limiting its liveliness. Jaebum watches, entranced, time seeming to melt and slip away, leaving nothing but a soundscape and the sense of home that comes with his brother’s presence.

Youngjae finishes the song he’s playing with a well-executed little trill, a clean dismount that lifts Jaebum from the music easily without feeling jarring.

Jaebum claps and lets out a small whoop of approval and Youngjae laughs. “I don’t think that’s the appropriate response to a piano piece, hyung,” he says.

“I’m just trying to show my appreciation,” Jaebum replies. “And who cares about appropriate when we’re the only ones here?”

Youngjae snorts. “We weren’t the only ones there when you ate chicken with your bare hands at the table.” If anyone else had said it, Jaebum would probably prickle at the words, assuming judgment behind them. As it is, all he can hear is the fondness and amusement in Youngjae’s tone and it makes him smile.

“Well, it’s not inappropriate where Jinyoung’s from,” he points out. He’s grateful that he’s alone with Youngjae right now; even if they’d laughed about it together since, Jinyoung would probably still be somewhat embarrassed to recall the entire debacle.

“I figured as much from how much he looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him when he realized,” Youngjae says with a grin, but it fades in favor of a thoughtful look.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Jaebum asks, leaning his elbow up on the board above the keys so he can face Youngjae.

“I really like him,” Youngjae says, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Jinyoung?” When Youngjae nods, Jaebum asks, “Already?” He runs his finger across the top of the pianoforte, feeling the care in its keeping in that simple touch. “Have you even known him long enough to make that kind of decision?”

“I don’t need to know him,” Youngjae says. “I know you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaebum asks self-consciously.

“I can already see how he brings out your good side,” Youngjae says simply. “The parts of you that were always my favorite.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jaebum asks, trying to hide how flustered he is by Youngjae’s answer. It’s almost uncannily similar to what Hongbin had said about Jinyoung making him softer, albeit phrased more kindly.

“Yeah,” Youngjae confirms. “You know, like the part of you that read me stories when we were little. Or the part that let me climb in bed with you when Hongbin was being an asshole.”

“Language,” Jaebum reprimands automatically, but it’s half-hearted.

Youngjae snorts. “I’d forgotten what it’s like to have a big brother around.”

“Hey,” Jaebum says with a smile. “Let me have this, all right? All my new brothers are older than me.”

Youngjae grins. “What about when I’m king?” he asks. “Are you still going to try to tell me what to do?”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re the king or an emperor or some kind of saint,” Jaebum says, ruffling Youngjae’s hair and pulling a yelp from him. “You’re always going to be my baby brother.”

“Yeah?” Youngjae says, smiling brightly up at Jaebum through mussed bangs, and Jaebum’s heart squeezes with happiness. “Even with all your new brothers up north?”

“You can be their baby brother, too,” Jaebum says, slinging an arm around Youngjae’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’d love to spoil you rotten.”

“Sounds like I need to make a visit to Cerisale soon,” Youngjae muses. “You make it sound so tempting.”

“I — Yeah.” Jaebum realizes Youngjae is right. He talks about Cerisale with a fondness he’d never anticipated when he’d left Solune. “It’s...nice, really.” He sighs and then adds, “But you have to promise that I’ll still be your favorite big brother.”

“I don’t know,” Youngjae says with a grin. “If Jinyoung’s brothers are as nice as you say — ”

“ _Yah._ ” He grabs the back of Youngjae’s neck, pulling him in close and playfully threatening, “Did all those years mean nothing to you? Are you really going to replace me just like that?”

Youngjae is bubbling with laughter as he falls against Jaebum’s side, a familiar warmth he’s missed so dearly. “Maybe I’ll replace you if they don’t grab me like this.”

“It’s affectionate,” Jaebum protests, lightly shaking Youngjae with his grip.

“It’s _painful,_ ” Youngjae whines. “You wouldn’t treat Jinyoung like this.”

“Jinyoung isn’t my brother,” Jaebum points out with a squeeze to the nape of Youngjae’s neck before his hand falls to his shoulder instead. “This is special baby brother treatment. Be grateful.”

Youngjae continues to gripe, but he’s still smiling even as Jaebum roughhouses with him. In fact, he’s pushing back slightly, stronger than Jaebum remembers, and it makes a bittersweet ache start up in his chest. There’s pride, of course, in seeing his brother growing and filling his shoes; but there’s sadness too, wondering how much he’s missed, how quickly Youngjae will grow up without him if he’s already matured even in the time Jaebum’s been gone.

“Hey.” Youngjae flicks Jaebum’s ear, but his voice is soft. “Where’d you go?”

Jaebum blinks, thinking of all the possible answers to that question. Youngjae doesn’t rush him, simply waits for an answer.

“Nowhere,” he says finally. “I’m right here.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re sure Youngjae doesn’t mind me borrowing you for a bit?” Jinyoung asks as they step out into the sunshine, but he’s clinging to Jaebum’s arm so eagerly that it’s doubtful he’d let go even if Jaebum told him that yes, in fact, Youngjae did mind.

“He had to go to lessons for something or other,” Jaebum says, settling his hand over Jinyoung’s. “He was complaining that I stink too much anyway and that I ought to spend some time with my mate to, and I quote, ‘Get it out of my system.’”

“And I’m sure what he was thinking of when he said that was a lovely turn about the gardens,” Jinyoung says drily, but then his eyes soften from playful to fond. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Good,” Jaebum says, digging his elbow into Jinyoung’s side. “If you were, I’d have to kick you out and ban you from ever entering.”

Jinyoung giggles, not hiding behind his hand for once. “Serious business.”

“Very serious,” Jaebum informs him as they make their way between low bushes. The trees are within spitting distance, but first, they have to make their way down at least one row of carefully groomed, waist-high shrubbery. Jaebum learned the hard way at a young age that attempting to cut down distance by clambering over them and snapping off branches would earn him the wrath of the gardeners.

“It’s all so neat,” Jinyoung remarks. “It’s very....”

“Boring?” Jaebum offers.

“I was going to say organized, but since you said it, yes,” Jinyoung admits. “Boring’s the word.”

They finally reach the end of the row and head toward the stand of trees, evenly spaced and eerily uniform. Most of the oranges have been harvested, but a few stragglers, probably late bloomers, hide in the densest of leaves, and Jaebum feels the old itch to climb again.

“It’s definitely boring,” Jaebum says. “But I guess having something predictable back then was nice.”

He swears he can feel Jinyoung’s gaze on him even as Jaebum looks up at the overhanging branches instead.

“I don’t blame you for wanting that,” Jinyoung says. “And the shade is definitely better than being out in the sun.”

Jaebum laughs. “Delicate northern flower can’t handle the southern heat?” he teases, lifting a hand to run the back of his finger down Jinyoung’s cheek.

Jinyoung swats his hand away, pouting. “Don’t make me remind you of how poorly you handled the cold when you first came to Cerisale.”

“Fine, fine,” Jaebum relents. “You know one of the good things about being down here, though?”

“What?”

“The oranges.” Jaebum drags Jinyoung over to the nearest tree he can see that still has fruit, unlinks their arms, and hoists himself up by a branch. The bark is rough beneath his skin, more so than he remembers; his calluses must be gone, but the feeling is close enough to familiar that it doesn’t deter him.

“Jaebum, are you sure this is a good — ”

“Don’t worry,” Jaebum reassures him as he finds a good nook to settle his weight before reaching out and plucking an orange off a branch above him. “Here, catch.” He tosses the fruit, lofting it with a high, easy arch so it falls into Jinyoung’s outstretched hands. He follows it down, swinging off the branch and back to the ground.

“Your clothes,” Jinyoung says, but he sounds more amused than judgmental. “I suppose that explains your appearance when we first met.”

Jaebum grins. “Sorry I didn’t bring you any fruit that time. It wasn’t in season just yet.” He steps closer to Jinyoung, settling his hands over the orange. “Here, let me peel it for you.”

Jinyoung relinquishes his grip and watches Jaebum dig a blunt nail into the weak point in the orange’s skin before pulling it back in a careful, well-practiced spiral.

Jaebum goes to drop the peel to the ground, but Jinyoung stops him. He takes it from him and lifts it to his own nose. “It smells so good,” he breathes.

Hearing those words in Jinyoung’s voice hits Jaebum harder than it should, a knot twisting suddenly and violently in his gut as he thinks of Jinyoung scenting him, or worse — _you taste so good._ God, he needs to get a grip. He distracts himself by teasing Jinyoung, saying, “Do I need to feel threatened by a fruit?”

Jinyoung laughs. “Definitely not.” He reaches up and drapes the peel over Jaebum’s head, giggling when Jaebum shakes it off with an exasperated noise. “Besides, that’s — that’s actually kind of what you smell like to me, anyway.”

“What?” Jaebum blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung replies. “Really bright and a little sharp, but sweet too.” He taps the tip of Jaebum’s nose with a fingertip, and Jaebum feels himself go a little cross-eyed tracking the movement. “It suits you.”

Jaebum drops his eyes to the bare orange in his hands, feeling a flush spreading across his cheeks. He focuses on breaking it into segments and tries to ignore how the content warmth that’s been settled in his belly since he woke up in the morning seems to blossom further every time Jinyoung touches him, even if it’s someplace as innocuous as the tip of his nose.

“You know, it’s funny that you think I smell like oranges,” Jaebum says, gaze still fixed on his own hands. “I used to come here, back when the trees were full of fruit, because the scent was strong enough to hide my own.” He licks his lips. “To me, my scent was like...those sweets that have too much sugar in them. The kind that feel like they’re stuck in the back of your throat, you know?”

“You’ve never smelled like that to me,” Jinyoung says quietly. “Maybe it was just your body getting used to it. I know I was hypersensitive when I first presented, too. Being around Younghyun in particular gave me headaches.”

“Maybe that was it,” Jaebum hedges. “I think it was also just — I hated it so much, Jinyoung.”

“I know,” Jinyoung murmurs, stepping closer. “I’m sorry.”

Jaebum exhales heavily. “It’s fine.”

“You don’t have to — ”

“I’m not lying,” Jaebum cuts him off. “Or trying to act like things are perfect or anything like that. But — it is fine. It wasn’t, but it is now.”

“Okay.” Jinyoung’s hand comes to hold Jaebum’s elbow, the touch gentle but grounding. “As long as you know you don’t have to pretend.”

“I know,” Jaebum says. His voice feels a little too thick, a little too somber, so he clears his throat and says as lightly as he can manage, “You should know by now, I’ll let you know if I’m not happy about something.”

Jinyoung snorts. “At least I can count on that.” His hand leaves Jaebum’s arm only for it to curl under Jaebum’s chin, using two fingers to tilt his face up until their eyes meet. “And I know my opinion doesn’t mean anything — ”

“It does,” Jaebum insists earnestly. “It means a lot.”

A sweet smile breaks across Jinyoung’s face, and he bites his lip before continuing, “Well, my opinion isn’t _everything._ ” He tilts his head, drawing just a breath nearer, and his scent hits Jaebum like a punch to the gut. “But I’ve always loved the way you smell.”

Jaebum swallows hard, throat dry enough that he’s sure Jinyoung can hear the gulp. He sways closer without thinking, like it’s magnetic. Distantly, he registers wetness in his hand, running down his forearm — he’s clutching the orange so tightly that the segments have burst in his grip and juice is dripping from them in sticky rivulets.

Jinyoung’s eyes fall to the orange and then snap back up to Jaebum’s face. “Jaebum?” he asks, sounding worried.

Jaebum opens his mouth to reply but finds himself at a loss for words. All he can do is lean in closer, captivated by the scent of Jinyoung, his mate, his _alpha —_

Jinyoung’s hand wraps around the nape of Jaebum’s neck and he closes the distance between them; but instead of kissing Jaebum, Jinyoung dips his face further down, running the tip of his nose along Jaebum’s throat. The breath catches in Jaebum’s throat, a primal part of his brain intensely satisfied at being scented.

When Jinyoung lets go of his breath, it trembles; when he speaks, his voice does too.

His next words take jumbled instances from the past few days and snap them into focus, a clear line where he hadn’t pieced it together before. The jumpiness before they left, the clinginess toward Jinyoung, the urge to nest with him and scent him and breathe him in at every opportunity.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung says, low and controlled. “I think you’re going into heat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so so so much for 800 kudos, i honestly can't believe it ;; we're getting so close to the end now, thank you for staying with this story for so long and giving it so much love and support!! ♡♡♡ i'm thinking the next update will be chapter 12 + a tiny lil epilogue to wrap things up, but i don't want to make the chapter count 13 and get anybody's hopes up for two more full-sized chapters. we'll see how it goes!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to [mel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee), [mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bias_wrecked), and [shana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritably) for hand-holding and editing and generally being wonderful, supportive eggs whom i love and appreciate very very much ♡♡♡

Jaebum waits for Jinyoung’s words to hit him, waits for the impact and the fall through his own mind, but it doesn’t come. There’s Jinyoung’s hand on his neck, Jinyoung’s nose brushing his throat, and Jinyoung’s scent wrapped around him like an embrace.

“I didn’t realize how strong your scent was getting,” Jinyoung mutters, mind racing ahead while Jaebum is stuck simply staring at the hint of silver he can see peeking out from behind Jinyoung’s collar. “I just thought you were stressed out from being here, I should’ve known it was something else when it was like this, even when we were with Youngjae — ”

“It’s okay,” Jaebum murmurs. “I didn’t know either.”

“Still, I should’ve — ” Jinyoung cuts himself off with a worried noise. “I guess there isn’t much to do about it now. Do you want to eat something? You should definitely drink some water. Is there anything I’m forgetting? I don’t want you to — ” His voice dissolves into a sigh when Jaebum butts his face lightly against Jinyoung’s jaw, nudging him to the side so Jaebum can burrow into the crook of Jinyoung’s neck.

“It’ll be fine,” Jaebum says, words muffled against Jinyoung’s skin. “I trust you.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Jaebum finds himself crushed in a hug so tight he can’t take a full breath, but it makes him melt happily into his mate.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung breathes into Jaebum’s hair.

“Why?” Jaebum asks. His lips brush Jinyoung’s skin with each syllable. “You’re the one helping me.”

“Because — ” Jinyoung lets out a bark of disbelieving laughter. “Never mind. Let’s get you inside.”

Jaebum lets himself be led, holding on to Jinyoung’s arm and occasionally nodding his head this way or that to indicate which direction they need to go as they walk back to the castle. He isn’t lost to the heat yet. He could easily stand on his own and resist the urge to cling — he has the presence of mind for that, at least — but with each step they take, each brush of their bodies when they walk, Jinyoung’s scent curls around him, warm and soothing like sinking into a bath. When he thinks of the last time he went through this, the intense anxiety that had gripped him when he’d been alone, it seems worlds away from how he feels now with Jinyoung at his side.

When they get to the room, Jinyoung ushers Jaebum to sit on the bed and immediately pours a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. He pushes it into Jaebum’s hands a little too enthusiastically and its contents slosh over the rim and onto Jaebum’s hands, making him jump. The cool water feels uncomfortably chilly against his skin, a jarring reminder of the fact that his body is kicking into what is essentially a fever.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says hastily, trying to wipe up the water with his sleeve. “I — I was just trying to get it to you as quickly as possible — ”

“It’s okay,” Jaebum says. “I’m going to end up wet anyway.”

Jinyoung’s hands freeze in their frantic motions and he stares up at Jaebum’s face. “I — um.”

“Sorry,” Jaebum says automatically. “Was that bad timing?”

There’s a brief moment of silence and then Jinyoung is giggling into his hands, leaning slightly into Jaebum so he can feel the shake of his shoulders as he laughs. Jaebum feels a smile spread across his face as well and he settles back into Jinyoung’s side until they’re pressed together from knee to hip to shoulder. When he sips at the water, the cold borders on unpleasant, but he focuses on the feeling of Jinyoung’s body against his and the warm contentedness that unfurls in his belly at the sensation.

Once he’s finished, Jinyoung takes the glass from his hand and sets it back down on the nightstand. It probably could be patronizing, if Jaebum wanted to read it that way — he would’ve, not so long ago — but it’s nice, really. It’s nice to know everything doesn’t rest in his hands alone.

Jinyoung hauls himself onto the bed properly and leans back against the headboard. “Come here,” he murmurs, and Jaebum doesn’t think twice before falling against his side. He nestles comfortably into Jinyoung, kicking the blankets down the bed before hitching his leg up over Jinyoung’s lap and wrapping himself around his mate. Jinyoung’s arm squeezes tight around his shoulders and his palm is warm as he pets Jaebum’s upper arm in slow, steady strokes. “There you go.”

Jaebum lets out a noise a little too needy to be a sigh and nuzzles at Jinyoung’s neck. The tip of his nose bumps against the chain of Jinyoung’s necklace — _Jaebum’s_ necklace — dragging it against Jinyoung’s collarbone before Jaebum makes his way up the line of Jinyoung’s neck. His lips follow instinctively, kissing and nipping at Jinyoung’s skin like it’s all he knows how to do, like it’s as natural as breathing and as necessary, too. Jinyoung’s breathing is even but loud, as if he’s trying to keep it from becoming too labored.

Like this, Jaebum is cocooned in Jinyoung’s body heat and scent and it makes his chest feel full to bursting. It makes him want to curl impossibly closer, bury himself inside Jinyoung and wrap himself up in him.

Jinyoung’s hand slips to the back of Jaebum’s neck, fingers combing through the hair at his nape, and Jaebum makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat. Jinyoung turns his head so their faces are almost touching, noses slotted just so, a breath away. Jinyoung hums, a lilting note, a question; Jaebum just lets out a sound that’s almost a whine, his gaze dropping to Jinyoung’s lips before flicking back up to his eyes.

He should use his words, he realizes, but the thought feels external, outside of himself. Right now, his mind is focused on Jinyoung — the warmth of their tangled bodies, the puff of his breath, the way the communication between them simply through their eyes feels as tangible as Jinyoung’s thighs tensing beneath Jaebum’s leg.

He should use his words, but he doesn’t have to, because Jinyoung tilts his face just a hint more and it’s enough for their lips to brush and bump and then melt together. Jaebum is eager from the first touch and Jinyoung mirrors him. Their mouths are open and wet, but the drag of their lips against each other is so slow it feels like it simmers beneath Jaebum’s skin, like the slick slide of Jinyoung’s tongue against his and the plumpness of his bottom lip between Jaebum’s is directly connected to the heat that shoots through Jaebum’s belly in pulsing waves.

It’s easy to get lost in kissing Jinyoung, in the push and pull. The distinctness of Jinyoung’s lips, his hands, all fade into a haze — there’s only pressure and heat and pleasure tingling down Jaebum’s spine and between his legs.

It takes him a little while to realize that he’s grinding against Jinyoung, but it doesn’t matter because Jinyoung’s pressing right back against him. They lie on their sides as their hips rock together, slow and sensual in a way that Jaebum’s never experienced, a way that no one’s ever bothered to take the time for with him. There’s no distance, no reprieve from Jinyoung’s touch. There’s only close and then closer still, the brush of their cocks through their trousers or the tight squeeze of them between their bodies.

Jaebum’s mouth drops open on a full-blown moan and Jinyoung drags his teeth lightly over his bottom lip before suckling on it, primal and gentle in the same breath. Something about the bite, as soft as it is, makes Jaebum want to roll over and drag Jinyoung on top of him and ask him to do it again and again and again, anywhere he likes.

So he does, slipping back but not letting Jinyoung go, pulling him with him until Jinyoung is lying atop him, hips cradled between Jaebum’s thighs. In this position, it’s easier for Jinyoung to press Jaebum into the bed with his hips and slip his hands into the space between the small of Jaebum’s back and the mattress. It makes Jaebum arch his body up into Jinyoung’s in a way that should stretch him painfully but instead simply makes him feel desired. Jinyoung’s mouth is at his ear now, and his panting is all Jaebum can hear — harsh exhales interspersed with whispers of _Jaebum, oh god, Jaebum._

He sucks Jaebum’s earlobe between his lips, warm and ticklish and not something Jaebum had ever thought he would like; but there’s an intimacy to it, and when Jinyoung lets the tip of his tongue delicately trace the shell of Jaebum’s ear, it sends a whine shuddering through his chest.

Jinyoung groans then, a deep, drawn-out _fuck,_ and his weight settles more firmly on top of Jaebum. His chest, his hips, even the press of his lips against Jaebum’s feels more substantial, and Jaebum spreads his thighs further without a single thought in his mind except getting Jinyoung closer.

Jinyoung’s cock is pressed against his through their trousers. Jaebum swears it feels harder than his own ever has, but maybe that’s just because it’s pushing into his lower belly, an unyielding pressure that seems bigger than it should. He’s hyper-aware of how Jinyoung twitches when their tongues glide together.

Like this, Jinyoung can drag their cocks against each other with more precision, friction right where Jaebum needs it. Jaebum does his best to keep up with Jinyoung’s thrusts, trying to counter them with jerks of his own hips, but the heat must be hitting him properly now, because his movements are becoming more uncoordinated.

He gives up on trying to kiss Jinyoung properly. His mouth hangs open and wet and Jinyoung pants against it, occasionally sucking at his cupid’s bow or lower lip as he works their hips in a desperate grind. The intensity of it is too much, too close and hot and sensitive, almost like he’s come already, but he can’t stop chasing even more sensation.

Every time he pushes back up against Jinyoung, he feels the slick between his cheeks and thighs, already so wet he’d probably be dripping if he could be bothered to take off his trousers. The memory of Jinyoung’s fingers slipping through it, the way Jinyoung had lapped it up and moaned, hits him like a physical blow, and he can feel even more wetness slide out of him with a throb of heat.

Jaebum barely even registers it when he comes the first time. He’s too caught up in the pleasure, in the feeling of his alpha pressing him into the bed and moaning into his mouth. The only thing that gives it away is the wetness spreading across the front of his trousers now, his hard cock still grinding up against Jinyoung through the sticky mess. It makes Jaebum shiver and Jinyoung pulls back just enough to look at his face.

“Did you — ?” he whispers.

Jaebum bites his lip. There’s a distant awareness that he should be embarrassed — he’s grown, experienced, he shouldn’t be coming in his pants from some kissing and grinding — but it feels unimportant compared to the fact that he’s still hard against Jinyoung’s hip and twitching with over-sensitivity at the same time he’s craving more.

“You did.” Jinyoung sounds amazed and Jaebum squirms slightly beneath him. “Fuck, you’re so _much._ ” He buries his face in Jaebum’s neck and sucks at his skin more harshly now. There might be a mark, the faint pink kind with plausible deniability. The attention would probably be too much any other time and make him shy away, but Jaebum almost wants him to go harder, to make it ache and bruise. Right now, it’s like something has opened up inside of him, hungry for anything Jinyoung will give him. He wants Jinyoung to feel the same burning need that he does, and every word of praise and reverent touch simply stokes the flames.

Instead of bringing any kind of relief, it’s as if his first orgasm has opened a dam and Jaebum’s mind and body are flooded with sensation. Every point at which Jinyoung touches him seems like it’s lit up, tingling and sparking. It only grows sharper when Jinyoung rucks Jaebum’s shirt up to expose his chest. His palms drag up Jaebum’s sides until his thumbs brush over his nipples.

Jaebum jerks up into his touch, back arching off the bed. He’s never been that sensitive here before, but the heat makes every slow rub of the pads of Jinyoung’s thumbs against his nipples feel like it’s connected straight to his cock.

“Should I do what you did to me?” Jinyoung asks, lowering his head so his breath whispers across Jaebum’s skin. “Do you want me to put my mouth here?” He pinches one of Jaebum’s nipples lightly, and Jaebum can feel himself twitch in his pants at the same time that a whimper gets caught in his throat.

Jaebum shakes his head, the movement jerky. “Too much,” he groans. “I can’t — ”

“Hey.” Jinyoung lets up, his hands sliding down to rub soothing circles into Jaebum’s side, and he drops a kiss to his stomach. “What do you need?”

Jaebum squirms on the sheets. “Help me out of these,” he decides, plucking at his clothes. It only serves to make him more aware of how the thin fabric is sticking to him with sweat. “It’s uncomfortable.”

Jinyoung nods and pushes Jaebum’s shirt up over his head, leaving him exposed to the cool air and making him shiver. It’s such a tiny movement, but Jinyoung notices. “Still okay?”

With impatient hands, Jaebum pushes at the waistband of his own trousers. “It’s gross,” he complains, his voice bordering on a whine that would send shame curdling through his stomach if his mind weren’t so preoccupied with the intensity of sensation he’s experiencing. The come going tacky in his pants feels unbearably irritating, but the warm press of Jinyoung’s palms feels luxurious.

As careful as Jinyoung is being with him, his fingers tremble as they undo the ties of Jaebum’s trousers before he pulls everything down, leaving Jaebum with nothing but the sheen of come over his thighs and cock.

Jinyoung lets out a quiet, pained noise, his eyes flitting up and down Jaebum’s body as if he isn’t sure where to look.

“You are…unfair,” Jinyoung whispers hoarsely. One of his hands reaches out, hovering over Jaebum’s thigh as if he’s afraid to touch.

Jaebum bends his knee, pushing his thigh up into Jinyoung’s hand, and Jinyoung automatically grips him, fingertips digging into the soft skin. Distantly, Jaebum is aware his body didn’t used to look like that, used to be compact and firm to the touch; but Jinyoung can’t seem to stop staring at where Jaebum’s body gives, at the plushness of his thigh dimpling beneath his fingers.

“Unfair,” he repeats, squeezing as if to emphasize his point. It’s not particularly high up on Jaebum’s thigh, but he’s painfully aware of the distance between where Jinyoung’s touching him and where he wants it. He makes a tiny, involuntary noise in the back of his throat, drawing a small groan from Jinyoung in response just before he leans in to kiss at Jaebum’s jaw.

Jinyoung’s grip on his thigh loosens and he trails his fingers up, dipping in toward the delicate skin that grows more hypersensitive the higher his touch travels. God, he’s not even close to Jaebum’s cock yet, but he’s throbbing again, another orgasm on a hair-trigger.

Then again, maybe it’s not because he wants Jinyoung to touch his cock, but because he’s inching nearer to where Jaebum is as slick as he’s ever been. He can feel it between his cheeks every time he moves, dripping down onto the sheets.

Finally, Jinyoung’s hand is up between his thighs, the space close and hot. His movements are almost glacial, leaving Jaebum torn between gratitude at how much care Jinyoung is taking and impatience at the wait.

The first touch of Jinyoung’s fingers to his rim makes up for it, though.

He hadn’t anticipated quite how sensitive he’d be here, how it would send pleasure tingling up through his gut. Jinyoung traces slow circles along Jaebum’s rim, his touch featherlight, almost like a tease if not for the way his eyes are wide and serious as they observe Jaebum’s every reaction. The pad of his finger pushes right at Jaebum’s center, right where he gives a little under the touch, and Jaebum gasps.

Jinyoung presses just a tiny bit further. It’s not enough to push past his rim, but enough for Jaebum to get a taste, a reminder of just what it feels like to take something inside him. “Can I — ?”

“Please,” Jaebum breathes automatically, spreading his thighs just a bit further.

Once the tip of Jinyoung’s finger is in, the rest slides in almost without trying. Slick is dripping out of Jaebum and makes it feel impossibly smooth, wet and easy even past the thickness of Jinyoung’s knuckles until his finger is sunk inside of Jaebum entirely.

They both let out heavy breaths. Jaebum hadn’t realized how much he’d taken for granted that when he touched himself, he could anticipate each move. Now, just one of Jinyoung’s fingers inside him makes his hips shift slightly. It’s not enough to feel like anything more than a tease, little more than the drag of Jinyoung’s finger against his rim and the faintest sensation of something inside him.

Instinctively, he craves more. He remembers the stretch he’d felt when he’d played with himself, the swell of his fingers against his walls, and he clenches down around the digit inside him.

“Another,” he asks, canting his hips up to get his point across. “More.”

Jinyoung curses, dropping his face to Jaebum’s bent knee and inhaling deeply. Want rolls off of him in heavy waves, his scent thick with desire that Jaebum can practically taste. Even if Jaebum didn’t have that indicator to go off of, though, he’d be able to read it in the reverent way Jinyoung looks at him, like he can’t tear his eyes away even as he slips his finger out only to push back in with another.

Jaebum isn’t sure if it’s heat or arousal, but two fingers feel hardly more satisfying than one. He can feel it in the stretch of his rim, but it’s not enough; he wants the drag of something thicker inside of him, wants to feel it deep in those places he couldn’t reach with his own fingers.

“I need — ” he rasps, wriggling on the bed, on Jinyoung’s fingers. “Give — _more._ ”

“Are you — ”

Jaebum barely resists the urge to kick him in frustration. “Jin _young._ ”

Jinyoung lets out a small noise and Jaebum realizes he’s trying to subdue giggles. “You’re so needy,” he comments.

Jaebum throws his forearm over his face and groans. “I already asked once,” he says, voice bordering on a whine. “Don’t — don’t make me say it again, I just — Jinyoung — ” He squirms and clenches down around Jinyoung’s fingers and he hears the laughter die in Jinyoung’s throat.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, and his voice sounds thick. “I can — yeah.”

Three fingers are more satisfying, wide as they push through his rim and thick enough inside of him that it makes him shudder when Jinyoung thrusts in all the way. Still, his body is unsatisfied and aches for more. He’s about to tell Jinyoung this when the fingers inside of him draw back and then slide back in, knocking the breath out of him.

Even though he’d imagined it while he touched himself, having Jinyoung thrusting his fingers into him in a slow, wet glide in and out and in again is so much more than his imagination could ever have conjured up on its own. Jinyoung’s fingers are longer than Jaebum’s and he has a better angle, and when he curls them, they rub along Jaebum’s walls in a way that has him shuddering and writhing on the bed.

A hook of Jinyoung’s fingers against a part of him he never managed to touch on his own sends sharp pleasure spiking through him, bright and almost too much. It draws a horribly embarrassing noise out of Jaebum before he can stop it, a choked little mewl as his hips jump and his untouched cock twitches, come spilling across his belly with no warning, thighs flexing around Jinyoung’s shoulders and chest heaving with how unexpected and overwhelming this orgasm was.

Jinyoung’s fingers freeze inside him, still keeping him spread open even as Jinyoung’s mouth drops open. Jaebum can feel the weight of his gaze, and when he collects himself enough to look up at his mate, he’s staring at Jaebum with glassy eyes, tongue peeking out from behind swollen lips as if he’s longing to devour Jaebum.

Without breaking eye contact, Jinyoung dips down until his face is just above Jaebum’s cock. He should be soft by now, Jaebum thinks deliriously, but he isn’t; he’s achingly hard, swollen and red and throbbing against his come-painted abdomen. Oversensitivity and need consume him in equal parts, leaving him shivering and twitching, unsure of what Jinyoung is about to do and even more unsure of what he even _wants_ Jinyoung to do.

Mercifully, Jinyoung doesn’t touch his cock. Instead, he leans in closer above Jaebum’s belly. There’s a flash of wetness against Jaebum’s skin, a teasing flick, and Jaebum realizes Jinyoung’s licking at him. He’s lapping up the come from Jaebum’s belly in tiny kitten licks, not unlike how he’d sucked Jaebum’s slick right off his own fingers. Jaebum stares, mouth hanging open, as Jinyoung’s pretty pink tongue peeks out again and again, shining with come before he swallows in between tiny, needy moans.

With a shaking hand, Jaebum reaches out and cups Jinyoung’s cheek, halting his actions. “Don’t — don’t worry about that right now,” he manages. “It’s just going to get messy again anyway.”

Jinyoung cocks his head and gives him a beatific smile, a smear of come at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll just have to get it later, then,” he purrs, and Jaebum swears he almost comes again from those words.

Jaebum squeezes his thighs around Jinyoung’s shoulders, but he keeps it light, just enough to remind Jinyoung they’re there. “I need — you know.”

“I do.” Jinyoung drops one last kiss to Jaebum’s hip, the action unfittingly innocent considering what he was doing there moments ago. “How should we — ” He sits up between Jaebum’s legs, his fingers trailing along the insides of his thighs. “Is this how you want it?”

Jaebum arches up off the bed, his arm over his eyes again to help make the action feel more removed from himself. “Just — now.”

“Jaebum.” There’s a touch at his wrist, tugging his arm away from his face. He reluctantly lets his face be uncovered and is met with Jinyoung’s face drawn into a serious expression at odds with the pink of his cheeks. “I can use my fingers. Or my mouth, or — or whatever. We can do this however, you don’t have to — to do _this_ just because we said we’d try it.”

Jaebum groans and tries to hide behind his arm again to no avail. “Do you want me to beg for it?”

He can hear Jinyoung’s breath hitch. “I wouldn’t…be opposed to that. But all I mean is — you’re sure, right? Really, really sure?”

“Jinyoung.” There must be something in his voice because Jinyoung stops speaking and looks at him with wide eyes. Jaebum wavers for a moment before settling on saying lowly, “Please.”

Jinyoung gives a jerky nod and relief washes over Jaebum. As much as he appreciates the care Jinyoung’s taking, he doesn’t know if he’s ready just yet to outline exactly what he wants from Jinyoung, at least not in words.

Actions, though. Jaebum is good with those.

He reaches forward, his fingers trailing down Jinyoung’s chest, the fabric of his shirt catching against his sweat-damp chest. Down, down, down, over the tightness of Jinyoung’s abdomen until he reaches the fastenings of his trousers, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls until Jinyoung has no choice but to follow.

He falls onto his hands above Jaebum, their hips inches apart only to make space where Jaebum still has a hold of him. Jaebum doesn’t break eye contact, something magnetic between them keeping their eyes fixed on each other even as his fingers fumble Jinyoung’s trousers open. The backs of his fingers brush against Jinyoung’s cock trapped against his belly, and he nearly gets sidetracked — it’s so tempting to rub against the velvety skin of his shaft, to feel how soft it is even as it pulses stiffly.

Finally, he gets Jinyoung’s clothes open enough that his cock is free. It looks more obscene than when Jinyoung is fully nude, the flushed red of the head a striking contrast to the muted tones of his pants.

That’s going to go inside him, Jaebum thinks hazily. And instead of the trepidation he’d once felt, all he feels now is a hunger that aches deep inside and makes him push his hips up into Jinyoung’s.

“ _Fuck._ ” Jinyoung leans down and their noses bump clumsily before their mouths meet in a messy kiss. He’s grinding against Jaebum, the heated skin of his cock dragging against Jaebum’s hips and thighs something entirely new but dizzyingly arousing.

He reaches down with one hand and Jaebum watches, unable to look away as he grips his cock and guides himself between Jaebum’s thighs. He can tell Jinyoung is feeling around a little blindly, a little awkwardly, the wet head dragging along Jaebum’s taint and between his cheeks until he finds his entrance. It’s soft, the give of the tip against Jaebum’s rim as Jinyoung starts to push in, and then it’s —

It’s not like anything Jaebum’s ever felt, not like anything he ever could’ve come up with on his own. Having something so thick, so unyielding inside of him is so different from fingers. It feels like it just keeps going, rigid and heavy, pressing against Jaebum’s walls and filling him up, thick and deep.

He doesn’t realize he’s moaning constantly in a high, thin voice until Jinyoung’s pausing to ask, “Is it okay?” He sounds like he’s barely holding back, but he keeps still until Jaebum responds.

Jaebum feels drunk, hazy, his mind swimming as he nods slowly. It’s more than okay, he wants to say, but words fail him. He lets his head fall back against the pillow and tugs weakly at Jinyoung’s neck, hoping his message gets across — _more._

Thankfully, Jinyoung seems to understand, and he steadies himself on his elbows and keeps pushing forward, his cock curving even deeper inside of Jaebum and making his eyes roll back. Even the burn only seems to add another dimension to the pleasure roiling through his gut, everything overwhelming in the best way.

Beyond the immediate satisfaction, there’s an animalistic edge to it that Jaebum can’t deny — Jinyoung looms above him, boxing him in with his arms, and he’s got Jaebum pinned on his cock, filled and surrounded. It soothes the buzz from the heat, takes the frenzy out of it and leaves Jaebum melting into the bed and happy to take whatever Jinyoung gives him.

He feels Jinyoung’s hips against his ass and realizes with a jolt that Jinyoung’s bottomed out. His knot must not have formed yet, but even so, he feels thick enough that Jaebum is as close to satisfied as he’s felt since his heat started.

Jinyoung’s brow is furrowed, eyes half-closed as his hips twitch minutely. Even the tiniest movements make Jaebum aware of how deeply Jinyoung is buried inside him.

Jinyoung lets out a slow, stuttering breath. “You feel…so good,” he manages before biting his lip. “Can I — Can I move?”

Jaebum gives up on words, simply lets out a moan and grabs at Jinyoung’s neck and shoulders. If this is what it feels like just to have Jinyoung inside him, he has no idea how he’s going to handle more.

The drag of his cock against Jaebum’s rim on the pull out is enough to have Jaebum gasping and digging into Jinyoung’s shoulders. The thrust back in, the force behind it that makes him feel every inch of Jinyoung’s cock inside him, the wet slide and the blunt push of it, makes his entire body coil up with tension. They moan in unison and Jinyoung’s head drops, hanging between his shoulders.

Jinyoung draws his hips back and then starts thrusting properly. The movement is uneven, like he can’t quite keep himself under control, but every stroke fills Jaebum up and pushes a moan past his lips all the same. It feels a little young, a little sweet, even the way Jinyoung’s breath keeps catching like he still can’t believe how good it feels to be inside Jaebum.

“So good,” he pants, and the praise sends heat skittering across Jaebum’s skin as always. He tugs Jinyoung closer, until the chain hanging around his neck brushes against Jaebum’s throat with every thrust, the metal cool with sweat. Jinyoung slips on his elbows slightly, losing his rhythm as he catches himself just before he would’ve fallen on top of Jaebum.

Jaebum can’t hold back a noise somewhere between a gasp and a giggle. For a moment, Jinyoung looks stunned, but then a smile spreads across his face and he’s laughing too, laughing right into the kiss that he presses to Jaebum’s lips, sharing tiny gasps of amusement between them, warm and sweet.

Jaebum tightens his hold behind Jinyoung’s neck, their noses bumping. “Go faster,” he whispers, voice strained. “Just — please.”

Jinyoung makes a tiny choked noise in the back of his throat, and then he’s fucking into Jaebum properly, enough to turn his laughs into moans as Jinyoung fills him over and over again.

“Like that?” Jinyoung pants, voice rough and thick as he picks up a rhythm.

Jaebum tries to say _yes,_ but it melts into a moan as Jinyoung’s cock starts driving deeper inside of him. Every thought he has slips further away with each thrust. His head lolls back on the pillow, body going lax beneath Jinyoung, and he looks at his mate through half-lidded eyes.

Jinyoung’s biting his lip and staring down at where he’s splitting Jaebum open like he can’t quite believe it’s real. Red stains his cheeks, his ears, his pretty swollen mouth, and Jaebum can’t stop himself from dragging him down for a sloppy kiss. He eagerly swallows Jinyoung’s grunts and groans as he thrusts harder, his hips slapping against Jaebum’s ass, the sound wet with how much slick and sweat there is between them.

Jinyoung breaks the kiss. “Can you — ” he gasps breathlessly. “Can you come like this?”

Jaebum wheezes. “What do you _think?_ ”

Jinyoung’s eyes steel with resolve and the next thrust is angled up, the fat head of his cock dragging against that spot that makes Jaebum’s next breath scrape out of his throat as a thin mewl.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jaebum grits out, his eyes rolling back as Jinyoung sits up and drags Jaebum’s hips into his lap so his thrusts are deep and quick. Jaebum is so full, but his body still aches for more, and he arches back up into Jinyoung and shoves himself as far onto his cock as he can, whining as he feels it even deeper inside him.

Jinyoung’s grip on his hips trembles, like he wants to dig his fingers in harder but is holding back. Instead, he lets his hands slide down Jaebum’s thighs, hitching one over his shoulder and using it to angle his thrusts just right. It leaves Jaebum clawing at the sheets, cock drooling precome all over his messy stomach.

“Keep — doing — that,” he manages through clenched teeth, moaning almost like he’s in pain, but it’s so good, everything is so fucking hot and wet and full and he can’t think of anything but the cock stretching him out and sliding against his walls.

At Jaebum’s words, Jinyoung redoubles his efforts. He seems entirely focused on fucking another orgasm out of Jaebum; his hips snap forward forcefully and his breath pants out in humid puffs against the inside of Jaebum’s knee where his lips rest like an unending open-mouthed kiss. And through it all, he gazes at Jaebum like he’s unreal, like he’s everything.

It’s overwhelming, all of it — the feeling of being so full, the intensity of Jinyoung’s eyes, the heat of his hands and cock and mouth. Jaebum feels like he’s burning up, pleasure scorching through him and coiling tight in his belly until his thighs are shaking around Jinyoung and he watches hazily as his cock jumps and spurts come all over himself again, as if Jinyoung’s fucking it right out of him.

Jaebum can feel himself tighten around Jinyoung as he comes, and Jinyoung curses, Jaebum’s leg slipping off his shoulder as he drops down onto his hands again.

And then Jaebum can feel it. He can feel the thickness of Jinyoung’s cock against his rim, the knot starting to form, and the realization hits him like a punch to the gut — he wants it, _needs_ it inside of him. It’s what his body’s been craving from the moment Jinyoung sank his fingers inside him. It’s what’s been driving his desperation to get Jinyoung to go harder, deeper, anything to feel like more, but this — this is it.

“Again,” Jaebum rasps. “ _God,_ Jinyoung, fuck me — ”

Jinyoung makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and immediately obeys, his hips falling into rhythm again like it’s instinct, like there’s nothing more natural in the world than to lay Jaebum out and stuff him full of his cock.

Now that Jaebum knows what he wants, getting fucked like this feels like as much of a tease as one finger had. It’s _right there,_ and Jaebum can feel desperation welling up inside him. It must be rolling off him in waves in his scent, and Jinyoung seems to pick up on it. His motions are becoming more frantic, each thrust harsher and wilder than Jaebum ever would’ve thought he wanted; and yet, it isn’t enough. Not now.

His fingers scrabble at Jinyoung’s back, tugging weakly, trying to get him closer, trying to get just that last bit more, what he _needs —_

God, he can feel the swell of Jinyoung’s knot pressing against his rim with every thrust. His body aches for it, not just where Jinyoung is spreading him wide and driving into him, but also in his chest, tight with heightened emotion.

His throat feels raw and he realizes distantly that he’s crying, biology kicking in and doing whatever it can to get his alpha to give him his knot. He’s supposed to be irresistible, undeniable like this; but even with his cock buried inside him, Jinyoung holds back, careful with him to the end.

“Please,” Jaebum begs, arching, squirming, pushing back, doing anything he can to get more. “Jinyoung — want you — ”

Jinyoung’s entire body is tensed, straining against the urge to surrender and give Jaebum the knot he’s crying for. The tendons in his neck are corded and his brow is furrowed and he looks a breath away from snapping and shoving Jaebum’s knees up to his ears and knotting him. On each drag of his cock out, Jaebum holds his breath, hoping this will be the one where Jinyoung gives in. But every time, he stops just short, thick and pulsing inside of Jaebum, but not what his body needs.

Just the press of his knot against Jaebum’s rim, promising a stretch and fullness that’s so much more, is enough to push Jaebum over the edge again. His chest heaves with aborted whines and half-sobs as come dribbles weakly out of his cock, spilling into the mess already covering his tummy.

Jinyoung’s jaw is clenched and he’s almost snarling as he fucks Jaebum through it. He’s close — he’s probably been close for so long, taking care of Jaebum all this time — and Jaebum slides his hands up and around so they’re no longer on Jinyoung’s back but on his nape. He pulls Jinyoung closer, draws him in until Jinyoung’s face is buried in the crook of his neck, pressed to his throat.

The groan Jinyoung lets out is guttural and his hips stutter. His hands fist in the sheets by Jaebum’s head so tightly he can hear the fabric creak and protest under his mate’s fingers. His thrusts are tiny jerks of his hips now, working his cock deep into Jaebum, so deep it feels like it drives the breath right out of him, but _still —_

“Alpha,” he whimpers, remembering the weakness Jinyoung’s shown for the title. “Please, alpha.”

Jinyoung shoves his face further into Jaebum’s neck. His breath is humid and hot as he takes deep inhales of Jaebum’s scent and moans on every exhale, sounding almost like he’s in pain, like Jaebum’s wounding him — and maybe he is, with his tears and his titles and his begging, but Jinyoung is coming anyway, knot still outside but his come filling Jaebum up enough to make him gasp and go limp against the sheets.

Jinyoung stays inside until his cock goes soft, whimpering into Jaebum’s neck with oversensitivity even as he keeps working his hips in faltering circles. When he finally pulls out, Jaebum shudders at the feeling of come and slick sliding out of him, hot and wet as he’s left empty and aching.

He squirms, more come dripping out of him as he hides behind his forearms and whines. Going from being so close to having a knot in him to clenching around nothing only highlights just how badly his body wants it.

Jinyoung is shushing him, making soothing noises as he presses kisses to Jaebum’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into the heated skin. “I know you wanted — I — I’ll make it up to you.”

“What — ?” Jaebum starts to ask, but he can’t finish his question, words lost as he watches Jinyoung draw back. He makes his way down Jaebum’s front, dropping kisses haphazardly. He’s still breathless from fucking him, so each press of his lips is accompanied by a soft, warm exhale against his skin.

Without a cock in him and a knot teasing at his rim, Jaebum feels some of the frantic need dissipating, like the heat has finally been satisfied by Jinyoung’s touch, at least for a short while. It’ll probably crash over him again soon, but in the meantime, he can drink in the sight of Jinyoung kissing his stomach with a new appreciation — his silky hair disheveled, the pink staining his ears, his lovely lashes fanned out across the tops of his cheeks.

He looks like he’s glowing and sated — until he looks up and Jaebum sees the determination in his eyes. It’s not quite the hunger he’d seen when Jinyoung had been pressing his cock against Jaebum’s hip, but Jaebum recognizes it all the same; it’s the same burning need to satisfy his mate that Jaebum’s felt, too.

When Jinyoung’s mouth dips down to mouth at Jaebum’s sensitive inner thigh, his legs fall open without thought. He has no idea what Jinyoung is going to do — he’d bypassed his cock resting thick and heavy on his belly — so he gives up trying to anticipate his actions.

Instead, he savors the sweet suction of Jinyoung’s mouth and the sweep of his tongue over delicate skin. He registers that Jinyoung’s open-mouthed kisses are moving closer to his center, but doesn’t really understand the implications. Not until the tip of Jinyoung’s tongue is barely tracing against his swollen rim and making his entire body tense back up again.

Jaebum’s head flies up to look at Jinyoung, a strangled curse caught in his throat. “You — ” he gasps. “That’s — Jinyoung, that’s dirty — ”

But his head falls back and his protests dissolve into moans as Jinyoung lets the flat of his tongue drag up from his hole to his taint. Everything’s so sensitive, stretched and flushed and a little sore, and Jinyoung’s mouth feels almost soothing. Jaebum’s already so messy with come and slick and sweat, and yet Jinyoung’s tongue still feels wet when he licks at him, lapping up what drips out of him.

A weak moan punches out of his chest and Jinyoung pulls him closer so he can’t squirm away from the broad strokes of his tongue over his rim. Jaebum’s hips jerk and his cock twitches when Jinyoung presses the tip of his tongue firmly against him and pushes it in as deep as he can. It’s nothing like a cock or fingers, wet and soft even as it slips past his loosened rim. Jinyoung’s mouth is hot against him as he shoves his tongue into him, almost ticklish if it didn’t make Jaebum teeter on the edge of overstimulation, especially once Jinyoung takes his cock in a loose grip.

He doesn’t even stroke Jaebum properly. He just holds him gently, his thumb rubbing lightly up and down against his frenulum, occasionally circling over the head and smearing come from before over the velvety skin. It’s teasing and wet just like his tongue in Jaebum’s hole, and it makes this orgasm build differently. It feels almost distant before it crests, tingling and shivery, and when it hits, it almost immediately tips over into too much.

Jaebum shudders in Jinyoung’s hold, his cock kicking in his hand, but there’s nothing left to spill. He comes dry, caught between Jinyoung’s soft fingers and his softer mouth, and even once it passes, he’s left shaking on the sheets.

Jinyoung crawls up the bed on trembling arms and collapses next to him. He reaches out and brushes Jaebum’s bangs back from his face with the lightest sweep of his fingertips, so delicate and careful, as if he didn’t just spend god knows how long pounding Jaebum into the mattress.

“You’ve done so well,” he murmurs, sounding as tired as Jaebum feels.

Jaebum turns on his side and curls into Jinyoung, ignoring the mess all over him. Nothing feels as important as nuzzling into Jinyoung’s neck and feeling Jinyoung’s fingers carding lazily through his hair.

“Not done yet,” Jaebum mumbles against his skin, torn between the exhaustion starting to pull at him and the arousal trying to spring back up. His body feels worn thin, but each lungful of his alpha’s scent helps him feel a little more grounded, a little more calm.

“I know,” Jinyoung replies. The hand one the back of Jaebum’s head presses him closer, and he happily follows, burying his face into the juncture of Jinyoung’s neck and shoulder. “But still — you’ve done well.”

And really, Jaebum figures, maybe he has. His thoughts feel sticky and slow with fatigue, but he doesn’t need to think right now. Not when he’s already done enough, at least according to Jinyoung.

“Rest,” Jinyoung whispers, already sounding like he’s fading himself. Jaebum feels his body relax into the mattress now that he has permission he probably wouldn’t have given himself. “We can get you a bath in a bit and — and we can handle the rest when it comes.”

They can, Jaebum thinks as he starts to drift. And he finally believes it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaebum isn’t quite sure how to feel about this bath.

Logically, he knows it makes sense to put someone in heat in a lukewarm bath to lower their body temperature. In practice, though, he’s resisting the urge to whine and shy away from it. It’s probably a little silly to want to save face in front of Jinyoung, who’s seen him do a lot worse than whine, but he still tries not to let the corners of his mouth turn down into a pout as he reluctantly lowers himself into the water.

“Wait.” Jinyoung’s voice makes him freeze, and he turns to look up at his mate.

Jinyoung is stripping off the robe he changed into — presumably to make himself a little more decent when he requested bathwater from a servant — and stepping into the bath before Jaebum can do anything. Once he’s seated in the water, Jinyoung gestures to the space in front of him. “Come on in.”

It’s easier to bear the tepid water against his skin when he’s looking across the tub at Jinyoung their legs are crossed.

Jinyoung takes a cloth from the stool beside the bath and wets it. He then leans forward and carefully runs it along Jaebum’s arms, belly, thighs; the fabric is a little rough, but Jinyoung's touch is tender, almost reverent. In gradual strokes, the mess is washed away. The water might not be very warm, but Jinyoung’s lingering touches are, and that’s enough for Jaebum.

When he feels clean enough, Jaebum tugs the cloth out of Jinyoung's grip and scoots closer, kneeling between Jinyoung's spread thighs. He dampens the cloth again, the gentle splash of his hand in the water and the droplets falling back into the tub from the rag the only sound between them. It's peaceful, after so long spent in a hazy cloud of noises and sensations. He lets himself get lost in the lull of stroking the cloth over Jinyoung's skin, taking care of his alpha the way he's taken care of him.

Jaebum still feels the heat prickling beneath his skin and keeping his cock at half-mast, but he feels more capable of focusing right now at this middle distance — not starving for his alpha's touch, but also not caught up in the cascade of sensations that always seem to come when they're in bed together.

"I'm sorry I didn't — " Jinyoung clears his throat awkwardly. "Didn't knot you."

"Ah. Well." Jaebum coughs. He buys himself a moment by dunking the rag in the water again a little too forcefully and then wringing it out. "It's — well."

"Well?" Jinyoung prompts.

" _Well,_ " Jaebum repeats before the ridiculousness of the conversation hits him and he snorts. He looks up and a smile is tugging at Jinyoung’s lips too. It makes him think of cherry wine and fairytales in the shade and truths by firelight; so he kisses Jinyoung and tries to make him think of those things, too. “Well,” he whispers against Jinyoung’s lips. “I guess I’ll live.”

Jinyoung lets out an impatient huff, but he follows it with a peck to Jaebum’s mouth. “We said we wouldn’t the first time,” he reminds Jaebum.

Jaebum groans. “I know,” he says sullenly. “It just — especially once it was right there, it felt like — like I needed it.” It’s difficult to admit, and he tries to lean back, but Jinyoung grabs his hands and tangles their fingers together, holding him close.

“I could tell,” he says. “And it was — ” His fingers tighten almost painfully around Jaebum’s. “That made me want to wait even more,” he admits. Hurt spikes through Jaebum’s chest at the thought that he’d bared so much to Jinyoung and been faced with rejection; but before he can say anything, Jinyoung hastily clarifies, “You were so...gone, Jaebum.”

“I — yeah.” There’s no point in denying it. “But I did want it. I told you, even when we were talking before, that I wanted it. I still want it.”

“I know,” Jinyoung says softly. “But — ”

“But we said we wouldn’t the first time,” Jaebum says begrudgingly. “I know.”

“That, and — ” Jinyoung sighs before saying so quietly that Jaebum can barely hear it, “You were crying. And I — I didn’t want to risk anything. It felt like so much already, and — you were _crying,_ Jaebum — ”

Jaebum surges forward without thinking and kisses the words off of Jinyoung’s lips. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jinyoung mumbles. “Don’t be stupid. I’m just — it was a lot to handle.”

Worry starts to gnaw at Jaebum’s stomach, the kind of anxiety centered on his mate that always seems to get worse when he’s in heat. “Are you...still okay with doing this together?” he asks. “Do you still want to?”

Jinyoung scoffs and settles his hand on the back of Jaebum’s neck to kiss him firmly. The assertion in the action makes Jaebum’s cock twitch between his legs, but he does his best to ignore it in favor of listening to Jinyoung.

“I want you,” Jinyoung says with certainty that chases the anxiety right out of Jaebum’s body, leaves him with warmth that curls up in his stomach like it belongs there. “I want to give you…everything. As long as you want it, too.”

There’s an intensity to his words, an unflinching honesty that cuts to Jaebum’s core. That Jinyoung feels like he can talk to him like this, that he’s comfortable showing his desires and his fears to Jaebum — something burns in his chest that has nothing to do with the heat.

He grabs Jinyoung again and kisses him, the movement a little abrupt and a little rough, but Jinyoung falls into it like he’s been waiting for it. The bathwater makes everything smooth and slippery, and Jaebum lets his hand slide down Jinyoung’s chest just to savor the drag of wet skin.

The kiss goes from clumsy to filthy so quickly it would make Jaebum a little embarrassed by his neediness except — it’s Jinyoung. He’s seen Jaebum at his most debauched, his most desperate, and he still kisses Jaebum like he can’t get enough, still _wants_ Jaebum even with that, even with everything. After all they’ve done, all they’ve been through, it’s hard to imagine a time when he would’ve been embarrassed by a kiss.

He’s fully hard now. He can feel his cock brush against Jinyoung’s thigh, and his hips jerk forward mindlessly without breaking their kiss. One of Jinyoung’s hands smooths over his thigh before circling loosely around his shaft, not so different from when he’d been eating him out. The memory just as much as the physical touch makes Jaebum fuck forward into his hand in tiny little thrusts.

The tub is too small for them to be tangled up in each other like this comfortably, though, and Jaebum makes a tiny noise of discomfort as his knees ache from the position. He’s torn between wanting to switch positions and not wanting to give up Jinyoung’s touch.

But Jinyoung makes the decision for him, tugging at his hip until he’s shifting from his knees to sit on his backside, and then pulling Jaebum back against his chest. Jaebum can feel the tip of Jinyoung’s nose nuzzle against the hair curling at the nape of his neck.

“Okay?” Jinyoung asks.

Jaebum hums, wiggling a little where he’s cradled between Jinyoung’s thighs. He feels surrounded, but in a comforting way, like crawling into bed after a too-long day.

And then there’s Jinyoung’s hand on his dick.

If Jaebum weren’t in heat, the way Jinyoung is touching him right now would feel like a tease. It’s almost like he’s playing with it, rubbing his fingertips against the sensitive skin right beneath the crown and then stroking up over the head and then back down with just his curled fingers. He never quite grips him properly, everything loose and light. It has Jaebum arching back against him, craning his neck to kiss at Jinyoung’s jaw and cheek and whatever he can reach.

Jinyoung nips at his ear, sucking the lobe between his lips and flicking at it with his tongue before dropping his mouth to Jaebum’s neck. His kisses are like the touch of his hand, featherlight against hypersensitive skin, and he keeps them wet and open enough that Jaebum doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Can we — try it like this?” Jaebum manages in between heavy exhales. “Next time?”

“Like what?” Jinyoung murmurs, lips warm against Jaebum’s neck.

Jaebum presses back against Jinyoung’s chest, feeling their skin slide wetly against each other. “With you...behind.”

He can hear Jinyoung’s breath catch in his ear, feel his chest hitch against his back. Jinyoung’s fingertips rub a little harder at the overheated head of his cock. Jaebum squirms between his thighs, the sensation becoming too much, and he comes, spilling what little he has left into the cool water and arching back against his mate.

“We can do that,” he hears Jinyoung say, already feeling a little distant as the heat starts to flare up again in Jaebum’s veins. “We can do anything you want.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

This time, Jaebum had started up on his knees, Jinyoung digging his fingers into his hips to drag him back onto his cock. After Jaebum’s first two orgasms, Jinyoung had draped himself over his back, grinding into him in deep circles and panting into his ear. Another orgasm and Jaebum hadn’t been able to hold himself up on his arms anymore. He’d collapsed to his elbows and knees and then fallen face-first into the pillows, using all his energy to keep his ass up for Jinyoung and try to fuck himself back onto his cock as much as he could.

Now, he’s lying on his front, exhausted, as Jinyoung fucks him right into the mattress, too far gone and too tired to hold back. He seems less tentative this time around, more at ease after their talk in the bath. He’s less timid, both with his touches and his words.

“You’re taking it so well,” he’s groaning against the back of Jaebum’s neck, voice strained with effort. His lips trail down to kiss across Jaebum’s shoulders before his lips are back at his ear. “So — so gorgeous, Jaebum. So good for me, so perfect — ”

A noise like a mewl falls from Jaebum’s lips as the praise sends sparks of heat through his gut and another orgasm hits him. He shudders, trapped under Jinyoung’s weight pressing him into the bed.

Jinyoung curses, his breath coming in heaving pants that Jaebum can feel against his overheated skin. His knot feels swollen and hot against Jaebum’s rim and Jinyoung’s hips keep jerking minutely, like he’s this close to fucking it into Jaebum. Jinyoung’s voice is ragged when he says, “I — I need — god, can I — ”

Jaebum reaches back to grip the nape of Jinyoung’s neck, fingers tangling in sweat-damp hair. He turns his head on the pillow so Jinyoung will be able to hear him when he gasps, “Let me — want to see — ”

Gratitude washes over him as Jinyoung seems to understand what he’s asking for despite his incoherence, and he slides his cock out of Jaebum with a wet noise. Jaebum shivers when the head bumps against the back of his thigh, hot and slick, and then Jinyoung is helping him flip over on his back with eager hands.

Jaebum takes in the sight of Jinyoung kneeling between his spread thighs and feels like the breath has been knocked out of him. He looks unreal, his body completely bare save for the silver chain around his throat, gleaming with sweat. A flush spreads down his bare chest, a pretty match to his cock hanging heavy and red between his legs.

There’s so much — slick, sweat, come, maybe even drool with the way Jinyoung’s been fucking him mindless. Everything is wet and messy, the sort of thing Jaebum normally hates, but now he can’t get enough of it.

Jinyoung shuffles closer on his knees, his cock smearing slick over Jaebum’s thighs. He takes himself in hand and tries to line himself up. It should be easy to push into him, with how loose and open Jaebum is now, but he ends up thrusting up against his taint and balls. The slide is wet and Jinyoung groans at the feeling, his hips automatically picking up a rhythm and dragging the heated skin of his cock against where Jaebum’s most sensitive.

Jaebum is about to whine at him not to tease when Jinyoung gets himself under control enough to guide himself to Jaebum’s rim. The wet glide of his cock pushing back inside makes up for the wait, and Jaebum whimpers as Jinyoung starts fucking him steadily, jolting him up the sheets with each thrust.

All the while, Jinyoung’s mouth is moving. He’s kissing Jaebum’s lips, jaw, neck, anything he can reach; and even as his lips are pressed to Jaebum’s skin, he’s talking, filth and praise dripping from his lips and filling Jaebum up as surely as his cock.

A kiss just below Jaebum’s jaw. “You feel so good, still so tight for me — ” A suck at the delicate skin of his neck. “ — so handsome like this, so gorgeous all over, every part of you — ” Teeth dragging bluntly against his collar bone followed by the wet sweep of a tongue. “ — such a good boy for me.”

A keen rips out of Jaebum’s throat at that before he even realizes what Jinyoung’s said. Once it registers, he doesn’t know what to think. No one’s ever called him that before. There’s no reason for him to like it so much, not when it should be condescending, but — on Jinyoung’s tongue, it doesn’t feel that way. It feels worshipful, the same way his lips on Jaebum’s skin feel.

And then he doesn’t have to think at all, because Jinyoung’s eyes light up and he shoves his cock deep and circles his hips, making him feel every inch of it inside him. “You are, you know,” he pants. “Such a good boy.”

“ _Jinyoung,_ ” he gasps, his hands flying out to grab blindly at his mate’s arms and chest as the pleasure ratchets up in his gut, the burning pleasure from being fucked and the heady haze of praise coalescing until he’s coming again, his cock twitching against his belly and nothing coming out.

Jinyoung groans like he’s in pain, and then he’s drawing back and slamming forward again, his knot pressing against Jaebum’s rim on each thrust as he starts pounding into him.

Every moan feels like it’s being torn out of Jaebum, pushed out of him by the shove of Jinyoung’s cock so deep inside him. “Give,” he manages to get out. “Jinyoung — _do_ it — ”

Jinyoung falls over him, caging him in with his elbows, and his thrusts become more jagged. He’s everything Jaebum can sense right now — his scent thick in Jaebum’s nose, his breathing heavy in his ear, his cock hard in his ass — and he clutches at Jinyoung’s back, grip slipping from the sweat there.

He can tell Jinyoung is getting close, his exhales almost becoming whines as his hips go off rhythm. His fingers are almost bruising on Jaebum’s hips as he pulls him further onto his cock, and Jaebum’s body is boneless, completely limp as Jinyoung works his knot against him, pressure growing and growing and growing —

And then it slides in, slowly at first and then eased by all the slick dripping out of him, and Jaebum’s mind goes blank.

Distantly, he’s aware that his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is hanging open, and he probably looks like he’s in pain, but he doesn’t feel any. All he can register is that he’s coming again, but this time it feels like it’s tearing through him. His body shakes with the force of it, like the pleasure from Jinyoung’s cock stretching him wide is rushing through the rest of him, burning out every thought, every sensation that isn’t Jinyoung, Jinyoung, Jinyoung.

Even with his knot buried inside him, Jinyoung’s hips continue to work his cock as far as he can, a snarl on his lips. Jaebum’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of getting fucked even deeper, and he can’t tell anymore if he’s still coming or coming again or if this is just what getting knotted feels like, if it’s always wave after wave of pleasure that leaves him whimpering and mewling and almost sobbing.

Jinyoung looks completely gone, his eyes closed, his brow furrowed, his mouth dropped open as he chases his orgasm. He can’t pull out anymore, so he just ruts against Jaebum desperately, grunting and whining like he can’t control it.

Through the haze, Jaebum feels a pang in his chest. Jinyoung’s so close, almost too close to fully appreciate him, but Jaebum can see the pink of his over-large ears, can hear his honeyed voice, can smell the scent that’s been with him through his most difficult times. It’s probably better that he can only see fragments, really; if he could take him in properly while also feeling so full of him, Jaebum thinks he just might burst.

He reaches up, stroking Jinyoung’s neck and chest clumsily, fingers tangling with the chain that hangs between them. He doesn’t pull on it, simply savors the feeling of the cold, damp metal against sweaty skin. Jinyoung’s eyes blink open, looking feverish, and he licks his lips and pants shakily and — god, Jaebum can’t stop himself.

He bites at Jinyoung’s neck, his jaw; it’s just light, blunt scrapes of his teeth, nothing like what Jinyoung had to do to him on their wedding night, but his fingers tighten around the necklace. He makes his way up Jinyoung’s jaw, and when he reaches his ear, he whispers in a voice he almost doesn’t recognize, “ _Mine._ ”

Jinyoung’s hips jerk forward and he lets out a moan that’s almost a sob, and Jaebum can feel the knot inside him grow just that bit more and wet heat rushes into him, filling him up. They’re locked together now and it sends off one last, shuddering orgasm through Jaebum. Desperately, he presses his mouth to Jinyoung’s and they pant and moan into each other, sharing breath as they come together.

They come down slowly, going from simply pressing slack mouths together to actual kisses, light and chaste against cupid’s bows and corners of lips until they’re completely relaxed. It feels like they’ve melted together into a tangle of warm limbs, and contentment wells up in Jaebum’s chest. The knot inside him doesn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. Instead, it feels...right. Almost soothing, like Jinyoung’s mouth on his bite.

Jinyoung brushes the tips of their noses together. “I don’t know if this was the best position to do this in,” he says sheepishly, shifting on top of Jaebum. “I feel like I’m going to crush you.”

“It’s okay,” Jaebum says, and it is. It’s more than okay, really; the warm weight of his alpha atop him feels comforting, reassuring. “And I — ” He reaches up with weak fingers to trail them along Jinyoung’s jaw. “I like being able to see.”

“Yeah?” Jinyoung whispers. He turns his face to kiss Jaebum’s fingertips.

“Yeah. It makes this worth it.” He squirms a little to emphasize his point. It’s just meant to be playful, the kind of teasing that they seem to fall into easily, but Jinyoung’s eyelids flutter and his mouth drops open and he makes a tiny choked noise in the back of his throat. His entire body tenses and Jaebum gasps as he feels the knot inside him pulsing.

When Jinyoung finally starts breathing again, his exhales come out as harsh pants. His eyes slip closed and he buries his face in Jaebum’s neck with a groan.

“Did you just...come? Again?” Jaebum asks.

“Yes,” comes the response, so muffled against Jaebum’s skin that he can barely hear it.

“Oh.” Jaebum swallows hard, his cock twitching with interest between them at the thought. “Is that...normal?”

Jinyoung lifts his head as if it’s a massive effort and looks down at him incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“Well — just — ” Jaebum blinks. “How many times is that supposed to happen?”

“As many times as it takes for the — the knot to go down?” Jinyoung makes a strangled noise. “Did you really ask me to knot you without knowing what knotting is?”

“I mean — knot in ass,” Jaebum says. “Seems self-explanatory?”

“That’s — _Jaebum._ ” Jinyoung sounds distressed, which is the last thing Jaebum wants. “I thought you knew — I shouldn’t have — ”

Jaebum clenches around him and watches with a little too much satisfaction as Jinyoung’s sentence stutters to a halt and his voice tapers off into a thin moan. When he’s collected himself again, he starts to pout, but Jaebum shushes him.

“I wanted it,” he reminds Jinyoung.

“But you didn’t know what it _was,_ ” Jinyoung frets. He sounds ridiculous, considering the position they’re in, and Jaebum can’t hold back a giggle. “Stop _laughing._ ”

“Then stop being funny,” Jaebum replies.

“I’m not being funny, I’m being serious — ”

“Hey.” Jaebum’s voice is quiet, but Jinyoung stops to listen anyway. “I know you’ve had to worry a lot. And I know I haven’t made it easier.” He curls his hand around the back of Jinyoung’s neck. “But...I’m okay. And if I’m not, I’ll tell you.”

Jinyoung sighs, but Jaebum can feel the anxiety start to drain from him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says firmly. He pulls Jinyoung down for a kiss, whispering into his lips, “You have to trust me, too.”

“I know,” Jinyoung says. “We’re both working on it, right?” When Jaebum gives him a tiny nod, Jinyoung melts into him, kissing him warmly.

Jaebum opens up beneath him, wraps his arms around Jinyoung’s shoulders and his legs around Jinyoung’s waist, reveling in the feeling of someone cherishing him. Jinyoung’s hips work in a slow grind, so different from their frantic pace before; when he comes again, filling Jaebum even more, it’s with a sound between a sigh and a moan, so gentle and sweet that Jaebum can’t resist the urge to guide Jinyoung’s head to the crook of his neck and cradle it there.

It would’ve been strange, not so long ago, to imagine coddling an alpha, let alone one in the middle of knotting him. He supposes it’s just Jinyoung — him and his way of always making Jaebum do all kinds of things he never would’ve imagined before him.

It’s not perfect, he thinks as he strokes Jinyoung’s hair, listening to the small happy hum he lets out. There are still uncharted waters between them; of course, there are, when they’ve only known each other a short time after being thrown together. But he can’t imagine anyone better to navigate this with, can’t imagine another mate so equipped to match him in every regard. Maybe it’s rose-tinted glasses, maybe it’s hormones, maybe it’s just trying to make the best of the situation he’s been forced into.

Jinyoung’s breath puffs warmly against his neck, and Jaebum thinks — maybe it’s something else, though. Maybe it’s Jinyoung. Maybe it’s the both of them and how they fit together. Maybe it’s just the fact that they want to make it fit.

He might never know exactly what it is. But when he presses a kiss to Jinyoung’s temple and gets one on his ear in return, he figures that he doesn’t mind so much.

Not when he has this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's going to be a VERY TINY one-scene epilogue that i'll be posting soon which will just tie everything up, but...this is it, pretty much? you guys have been so patient with me, so i hope the wait was worth it! i'll leave all my crying and gratitude for the very end, but truly, thank you all so much ♡♡♡
> 
> ETA: don't worry y'all, jaebum won't get pregnant. male omegas are barren in this verse~


	13. Chapter 13

“You know,” Hongbin comments, “you spent a lot the time you were here banging your shiny new husband in your childhood bedroom. Was that the entire reason you came to visit? Are you a pervert?”

“You’re so fixated on my sex life,” Jaebum says coolly as he closes the lid to his trunk. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m already mated.”

Hongbin snorts. “Yeah, I know. We all know. How could we not know, with the scenting and the smiling and the _fucking —_ ”

Jaebum is about to open the lid of his trunk again just to close it with Hongbin’s head inside when he’s interrupted by Youngjae’s voice from the open doorway.

“Are you all done packing?” Youngjae makes his way to Jaebum and peers over his shoulder at his trunk. “Did you get all the things you forgot the first time?”

“Yep.” Jaebum wraps an arm around Youngjae’s shoulder and tugs him into his side, squeezing him tight. “You just can’t wait to have your castle to yourself again, huh?”

“Hyung,” Youngjae whines through a giggle, squirming in his hold. “You know that’s not true.”

“It’s okay, Youngjae,” Hongbin says. “You can tell him we’re all sick of the newlyweds using our home as their honeymoon retreat.”

“If you’re so damn sick of me, then help me get this thing” — Jaebum kicks his trunk. — “down to the front hall so I can be on my way.”

Hongbin groans and bellyaches, taking his time shuffling around the trunk and bitching out Jaebum instead of actually picking it up. Jaebum meets each of sharp words with his own, savoring the verbal sparring as much as he had their physical match when Hongbin had visited.

It’s only when Youngjae has had enough of them and leans down to pick up the trunk himself that Hongbin rushes to elbow him out of the way, huffing and grumbling about _this damn royal family and their stupid stubborn sons._

Jaebum picks up one of the ends so the weight is shared evenly between the two of them and nods to Youngjae. “Lead the way, kid.”

Their walk to the front hall is illuminated by blinding morning sunlight and Youngjae’s steady stream of chatter. Even though Jaebum’s had weeks to try to soak up as much of his brother’s presence as he can, he still finds himself clinging to these last small moments. He takes in Youngjae’s warm voice, bright laugh, and welcoming smile and packs them away in his memory more tightly than his most cherished belongings nestled in his trunk. This will have to tide him over until he can see him again.

Hopefully, though, that will be sooner rather than later.

“It’s all thawed out up there, right?” Youngjae asks, keeping their slow pace even though he isn’t carrying anything. “So, you have to visit more often now that you don’t have to worry about snow.”

“Of course.” Jaebum grins. “And you have to come up to see me too, since it finally won’t be too cold for you.”

“Right.” Youngjae laughs as they turn down the main staircase. “Since I apparently have to go get spoiled by all these new brothers of ours.”

“I see how it is,” Jaebum teases back before his words cut off with a grunt as he focuses on not scraping his trunk along the stairs. They easily could’ve had a servant help them, but he’d found himself hesitant to bring someone else in right now. It’s a little simpler just the three of them making their way to Jinyoung waiting at the front entrance, even if it strains muscles he’s been neglecting. The last thing he had wanted was a repeat of the stilted procession that had seen him off the first time.

He’d already bid his parents farewell earlier, more private but no less awkward than his first departure. Particularly after the open warmth and sharp wit of Jinyoung’s parents, his own seem small and dim by comparison, fading stars trying to outshine the moon. Of course, the anger at how they treated him is still there, simmering in Jaebum’s chest — it probably always will be — but it’s tinged with sadness now as he thinks of them, tangled in the webs they’ve woven around themselves.

That was him, he realizes. That was what Jinyoung saw when he arrived in Cerisale. And for all that Jaebum loathes being on the receiving end of pity, he can’t help but feel it for his parents now. 

He shakes off the thought of them and focuses on the present. He’s spent too long dwelling on the past as it is. Now, he has Jinyoung ahead of him — in every sense of the word.

He’s waiting for them at the front doors, which stand open and allow sunlight to stream in, illuminating Jinyoung. Even though the heat has long since passed, there’s a lingering warmth that surges again in Jaebum’s chest at the sight of his mate. It only burns brighter when Jinyoung’s eyes light on them and his face breaks into a smile.

They the trunk down in the doorway and it’s swiftly taken away by the coachman and guard appointed to take them home, leaving the four of them alone.

Before Jaebum can say anything, Youngjae beats him to the punch, asking, “Jinyoung hyung, I can come visit soon, right?”

Jinyoung smiles fondly at him, and Jaebum swears he can feel the contentedness welling up inside him like a physical feeling, overflowing at the sight of seeing his mate treat his brother with genuine kindness. “How about we just steal you away right now? We’ll sneak you into our carriage and be half a kingdom away before they find out. I’m sure Hakyeon would be thrilled to have another Solune prince to mother hen.”

Youngjae beams. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You know our parents won’t let you go just like that,” Jaebum admonishes, grabbing Youngjae by the nape of his neck and giving him a playful shake. His voice turns gentler when he adds, “So, you’d better make sure to start working on getting their permission right away.”

“I’ll practice my negotiation skills,” Youngjae replies cheerfully. “All this training for being heir to the throne is apparently really helpful for getting what I want.”

Jaebum turns to Hongbin. “What have you been doing to him since I left?”

“Doing to him?” Hongbin asks, affronted. “I haven’t done a damn thing.”

“He’s _scheming,_ ” Jaebum accuses. “Who else should I blame?”

“Your parents? The advisors? The inherent corruption of any political system?” Hongbin suggests. “Or, you know, maybe you’ve just been blinded to his true nature by your massive soft spot for him.” 

Jaebum looks down at Youngjae, who flashes him a winning smile.

“No,” Jaebum decides. “It’s definitely your fault somehow, Hongbin.”

Hongbin splutters indignantly while Youngjae shakes with laughter in Jaebum’s grip. Jaebum lets his hand fall from Youngjae’s neck to his shoulder and squeezes him tight, somehow already missing him even while he’s holding him.

Youngjae leans into the touch, turning in his arms to properly hug him. “I really will come see you soon,” he says quietly, more serious now. “I’ll write to you as soon as I know.”

Jaebum tightens his arms around him and then pulls back, taking a good long look at his face to burn it into his memory. “I’ll hold you to that, you know,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “Don’t make me come down here and bring you up myself.”

Youngjae giggles. “I promise. Besides, I’m sure you and Jinyoung will be busy with plenty of very important things I shouldn’t distract you from.”

Jaebum narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we want a break from your horny asses,” Hongbin cuts in. “I hope you aren’t expecting another hug, by the way. I know you’ve become some kind of a sap or whatever — ”

“There’s no one in the world sappy enough to hug you,” Jaebum interrupts with a snort. “So, don’t worry about it.”

“Good.” Hongbin nods, his hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets. “I guess I’ll check in on you if I have any more missions up north. Someone has to make sure you two are remembering to eat between rounds.”

“I guess we can host you again whenever you intrude on our hospitality,” Jaebum replies, but he can feel his traitorous mouth curving into a smile despite his best efforts. “Or, you know, you could tag along as Youngjae’s guard when he comes. Or something.”

“Good god,” Jinyoung mutters from behind him. “Can’t you two just hug like normal people?”

“No,” they say in unison, and Youngjae snorts with laughter.

“Sorry, Highness,” Hongbin replies. “Mostly that you’re married to this fool and still think he’s normal.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jinyoung says lightly. “I don’t think that at all.”

Hongbin lets out a bark of laughter at that and Jaebum pulls a face at him.

Jaebum huffs in feigned irritation. “I know where I’m not welcome. Come on, Jinyoung, let’s go — ”

His voice freezes in his throat and he blinks a few times as what he was about to say hits him. He looks at Youngjae and Hongbin one last time, standing in the hall he’d spent so many years of his life in, years in which he’d never imagined a new family, a new castle, a new life. The sunlight casts everything in hazy gold, making the present moment feel like a memory even as he’s living it.

And of course, it’s different from the last time he left. Even on a surface level, few things are the same, but the ache is different, too. There’s no shame, no hurt, no stinging resentment at being cast out, no feeling of longing desperately to be allowed back in. When he walks out of the castle this time, he’ll be able to feel every step he takes.

And he won’t be taking them alone.

“Jaebum?” Jinyoung’s voice is soft and so is the brush of the backs of his knuckles against Jaebum’s. “Are you all right?”

Jaebum takes a deep breath, and then he slips his hand into Jinyoung’s and squeezes it tightly.

“Yeah,” he says finally, and he thinks — he is. He really is. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...this is it! i still can't believe we're here, really. from the very beginning, you guys have all been so wonderful and supportive and it absolutely blew me away. i wasn't expecting much response to this at all, but y'all have left such amazing comments and talked to me so much about it on twitter/cc and just overall been so fantastic and made this even more fun! thank you guys for your patience through the disaster update schedule and for being so understanding every step of the way. everything about this has been such a great experience and i can't thank you guys enough for giving this story and me so much love!! i've had a wonderful time and i hope y'all have too ♡♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/mianderings), [cc](curiouscat.me/mianderings), or [tumblr](http://dearings.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [boy, i'll die to care for you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886116) by [serendipitee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/pseuds/serendipitee)




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